


This Love in an Photograph

by louissass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (i know its cliche im sorry), Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Gay Bashing, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of attempted suicide, domestic abuse, gemma owns a bar, harry gets bullied for being gay, harry is a music nerd, liams a boxer, louis is a really popular footballer, niall is harrys best friend, theyre all 16/17, zayn is also a footballer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2424092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louissass/pseuds/louissass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“I– sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, but– you sing?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No,” Louis says immediately.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harry is confused. “But I just heard you,”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No you didn’t,” Louis says. His voice is hard and angry as he turns back around to turn the shower off and wrap a towel around his waist. “You didn’t fucking hear anything, are we clear, faggot?”</em>
</p><p>or, a high school au where Harry needs a partner for the singing competition and Louis happens to have undiscovered talent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Made These Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVERYBODY SING: HIgh scHOol AU!!
> 
> Yikes...It's been a while (soz about that) hasn't it? Well, here is another unfinished work, sorry about that, but it's something to chew over while i work on finishing the other parts i am yet to start..
> 
>  **Trigger Warning:** homophobia, bullying, mentions of attempted suicide/suicidal thoughts/depressive thoughts/eating disorders and domestic abuse
> 
> my tumblr is [ millionairelouis](http://millionairelouis.tumblr.com) hit me up!

“ _Don’t let me, don’t let me, don’t let me go, because I’m always alone_ _–_ ” Harry slams his hands down on the piano in frustration, “Fuck,”

This song has been taking him bloody ages to write, and it’s getting on his nerves right now. Normally, Harry can whack one out in a few hours or so, but this has taken him days and he’s still stuck on the chorus. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t get the last line to fit with the melody. It’s really frustrating.

Harry takes his pencil and rubs out the notes he just jotted down on the sheet music paper and slams his forehead against the piano. It’s just so frustrating. He needs to write a song for the competition, and he’s only got two months before all the entries need to be in.

“Careful, mate, that thing cost a bomb,” a happy, laughing Irish voice says, his leather boots clicking on the wooden floorboards. Harry groans and flips him off, making Niall laugh even harder. “Your song’s coming along nicely,”

Harry looks up and glares at the blond boy. “It is _not_ , Niall. I’ve been stuck on the chorus for three days, and it still sounds shit!”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Haz. I think it sounds wonderful, the melody is really nice.” Niall says then, sitting on the edge of the stage and softly strumming Harry’s melody on an acoustic guitar he picked up. It’s a soft brown colour, with a red scarf tied to the neck, so Harry reasons it’ll be his sister’s, the one she keeps behind the bar.

“If you break that, Gemma will kill you,” He warns.

“Nah,” Niall laughs, messing around with some scales. “Me and your sis are tight, she’d never be mad at me.”

It’s true; Niall and Gemma have a sort of closeness that Harry can only find slightly disturbing. Even though Gemma has a boyfriend, and is three years older than both of them, he still finds it weird that Niall is obviously trying to get in his sisters pants. It’s just wrong.

“If I write her a song, do you think she’d suck my cock?” Niall wonders out loud and Harry rolls his eyes, throwing a pencil at the back of his head.

“Stop trying to get in my sisters pants!” he growls, though it’s playful and Niall knows it is. Honestly, if the two of them did get together, at least Harry knows she’d be treated right, Niall’s a nice boy, he could never hurt a fly.

Niall just laughs and throws the pencil back. He stands up and walks over to where Harry is sitting at the piano, looking over the sheet music over his shoulder. “Think you can convert this into a fret board so I can play it? Maybe we can both do it at the pub this weekend,”

“It’s not finished yet,” Harry grumbles, tidying up the sheet music and shoving it in his bag. “It’s only got one verse, half a bridge and not even a third of a chorus yet. It’s a mess and quite frankly, I’m bloody ashamed.”

“Remember though, Hazza,” Niall says, knocking out a few chords of the piano. He’s only really great at guitar, but Harry’s been trying to teach him other instruments, and he’s picking it up, if slowly. “Things can only get better,”

“That was horrible, D:ream would be ashamed of you for completely destroying their only hit single,” He replies, shaking his head. Niall shrugs and steps away from the offending instrument, grabbing his own bag, from where he’d dropped it at the front of the stage. “C’mon, lunch finishes in twenty minutes,”

“Why do you think I came to get you?” Niall says, bumping Harry’s shoulder as they exit the pub. Since they’re in year 12 now, Niall and Harry don’t have to stay in school during their free periods, or lunch break. So, every Monday, Tuesday and Friday, Harry comes to his sister’s bar to practice during his free period, which is right before lunch. Sometimes Niall comes along as well, but since Gemma only works nights at the moment, he’s stopped stopping by so often.

“You’re too good to me Niall. Know what would be even better, though?” He says lightly as they walk down the path. The pub is only round the corner from the school, and Harry can already hear the kids screaming on the front playground.

“Sorry mate, I already told ya, I don’t sing.”

Harry groans, “Please? I can’t do a duet with only one person, I need a partner!” Niall doesn’t budge, “I’ve heard there are scouts at the competition, Niall, this could be my one chance to get in the industry!”

“Harry, you know I would do anything for you, don’t you?” Niall says, touching Harry’s arm softly. They’re standing just outside the school gates now, and Harry sighs, nodding a little. “Then you understand that if I sang with you, it would only ruin your chances even more. It’s for your benefit mate.”

In all honesty, Niall really is tone deaf. He’s a mega guitar player, better than anyone Harry has ever seen, but it seems that’s his only musical talent, because he can’t sing for shit, he can only hold a beat for half a minute on the drums, and his piano skills make Harry want to tear his skin off. He does try though, bless him, and Harry supposes that’s all he can really ask for.

“I know,” Harry sighs glumly, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do if I can’t find a partner.”

Niall smiles kindly at him and squeezes his bicep. “You’ll think of something, Hazza, you always d–”

“Faggots!”

Something cold and wet is splashed in Harry’s face and he closes his eyes quickly, but obviously forgets to close his mouth. The liquid tastes like strawberry, it’s thick and cold and it’s all over his face and hair and head scarf and Harry wants to cry. Ever since he got caught kissing Freddie McDonnall behind the bike sheds in year 4, this has been his life. It didn’t even matter that he didn’t decide he was gay until two years ago, according to everyone at his school, he’s just the little queer who drives everyone away and gives them all herpes.

(For the record, it’s not even his fault Freddie McDonall had herpes, all they did was kiss, and Freddie was the one who hooked up with that skanky girl from the homeless shelter when he was fourteen. What did he expect was going to happen?)

“Harry, I’m sorry mate, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Niall says, tugging his arm so he leaves the puddle of smoothie he’s standing in and leads him to the boy’s bathroom. Together, the two of them wash most of it off his face, but it’s still in his long, curly hair, and it’s absolutely ruined his headscarf.

“This is futile,” Harry sighs after twenty minutes, “I’m just gonna have to suck it up and go take a shower.”

“Want me to come?” Niall asks and Harry smirks, but Niall stops him before he gets a chance to open his mouth. “I can stand in the changing area and make sure no one interrupts or nicks your clothes like last time, you dirty fucker,”

Harry chuckles. “That’d be nice, thanks Niall.”

Harry’s secretly glad Niall is basically chaperoning him to the showers. The showers are located in the changing rooms, which are connected to the gym, where the majority of the bullies in the school like to get sweaty and throw/kick balls at each other. Right, and _he’s_ the gay one.

When they get to the showers, Harry strips quickly and nabs a towel from the basket, before giving his beloved head scarf to Niall to see if he can get the worst of the smoothie off it. Harry’s grandma bought him that for his birthday, just before she passed away last year. She embroidered his initials in the bottom left hand corner of the scarf so he would always know it was his, and honestly, while it wasn’t the best stitching he’d ever seen, his grandma had taken time to personalise his birthday present, at 90 years old, with shaking hands and bad eyesight. And that made it perfect.

“ _Hey there Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?_ ” Harry’s head snaps up in shock. He thought they were alone, just him and Niall, in here, but as the sweetest voice Harry has ever heard flows into his ears, apparently not. “ _I’m a thousand miles away, but girl tonight you look so pretty,_ ”

Harry grins and makes for the shower cubicles, desperate to find the one with the amazing singer hidden inside. He’s halfway down when a curtain opens, and Harry’s heart jumps in his throat in anticipation of who the mystery singer is. To his disappointment, it’s not any sort of singer, it’s just Louis Tomlinson, captain of the football team and (coincidently) Harry’s crush since two years ago. Harry pretty much bloody turned gay for this guy, and that arse…

“What the hell is a hippie dippy music nerd doing in the gym showers?” Louis smirks and Harry hangs his head low. Louis doesn’t exactly bully him, but he doesn’t stop his friends from doing it, and he definitely doesn’t tease him in a friendly manner either. “Trying to get an eyeful, are we, gay-boy?”

“Why don’t you ask your dumbass friends,” he sneers in return, pushing past the gloriously toned (and very naked) footballer.

“Whoa, touchy,” Louis says. His voice is light and teasing, and Harry doesn’t like it. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, dear,”

“Alright, Tomlinson, leave it now.” Harry sighs when he hears his saviour come to his rescue; Liam. Liam is a boxer, he’s taller than most people, and a lot broader as well. He’s got muscles Harry could only dream of having and a look in his eyes that says he wouldn’t be afraid to kill a man. Harry is glad Liam’s on his side and not against him.

“Standing up for the queer, are we?” Louis muses and Harry almost dies.

“Yes.” He says bluntly, “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to have a shower.”

Liam and Louis have a mini stare off, as Harry cowers behind the shower curtain, until finally Louis gives in. “Whatever. Laters, gay-boy.”

Harry slumps against the shower wall as Liam gets in to the cubicle next to him, and Louis walks out to get dressed. Since Harry is really tall for his age, he can just about see over all the cubicles, and comes to the very disappointing conclusion that the shower room is empty. His mystery singer must’ve left.

“Thanks, Liam,” Harry says as he uses some soap to wash out his hair.

“Whatever, Styles, as long as you hold up your end of the bargain,” Liam says then. Liam isn’t exactly a friend to Harry, he’s more of a study buddy. See, Harry’s quite smart and Liam, well, he’s not. Since they got paired together in Film Studies and Chemistry at the beginning of the year, Harry agreed to do all of Liam’s homework, as long as the muscly boy protected him, whenever he was around.

“Sure, just tell me when it’s due and I’ll have it to you the period before,” he mumbles as his fingers get stuck in his hair, yet again, but his mind is elsewhere. Harry needs to find that singer for the competition, if not he’s royally screwed, and he needs to find him fast.

***

“Zayn have you got a light?” Louis says, joint poised between his lips. He’s supposed to be stopping, and he will stop, just after this one. It’s all that curly haired fag’s fault, anyway, with those sinful lips, slender hips, long, lanky legs. When Louis saw him in the shower earlier, the only thought that came to mind was how much he wanted to push the boy to his knees right there and make him use those lips like he was supposed to. But that’s disgusting and it makes Louis shiver, the gay must be catching.

He only needs one puff, just to get him through the rest of the day. Louis has got double chemistry next sitting behind a certain curly haired fag, and with haggis eating, crusty old Ackney teaching, Louis isn’t sure he has the restraint to not do anything about it. Louis isn’t gay, definitely not, but he knows a good pair of blowjob lips when he sees them, and it’s just really hard to resist, once he’s got his eye in for it.

“Zayn,” he says, louder this time, snapping Zayn out of his trance, “Lighter,”

Zayn fumbles with the lighter and eventually lights up Louis’ joint, who draws in a long, frantic puff and blows it out steadily. Louis sighs and leans back against the tree, already feeling the addled thoughts of curly haired boys and blowjobs leaving his brain, and being replaced with sweet, sweet nothing. Louis isn’t a stoner, it just helps him to not think. He thinks too much sometimes, and it’s not good for his concentration.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Zayn asks after a minute, reaching forward to take the joint out of Louis’ fingers and take his own puff, before passing it round the group. Almost the entire A football team are here, a few B’s as well, but they’re only 16, so they don’t get a puff, obviously. The A football team are made up of almost entirely year 13’s, seeing as they’re the most experienced in the school. Louis should be year 13, but he failed all his exams last year and had to retake the year, something his crusty old teachers never let him forget.

“What are you talking about? Nothing, you’re overreacting.” Louis says quickly, the drugs still not quite kicking in and letting him chill. He needs to chill if he’s going to get through double chemistry. Louis only took it so he could blow things up.

“There’s something, or should I say… Some _one_?” Zayn says, wiggling his eyebrows. Louis blushes and snatches the blunt off Derek, taking another two hits. “There is, Lou! You’ve got that, ‘I need to restrain myself from ripping all her clothes off so I’m gonna get as high as a kite to do so’ look in your eye.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. He didn’t know he had a look like that.

“So who is it then? Who’s got Tommo all hot and bothered?” Zayn asks, punching his knee, “Is it Kylie, or that blonde bitch from Chem support, what’s her name? Samantha, is it? Or–”

“Zayn, shut up, it’s no one.” Louis says, kicking him in the balls. Zayn throws some chalk in his face.

“Actually, shit, give that back, I’ve got this final collage due for tomorrow and that’s my last of the white chalk,” he says suddenly, and Louis laughs out loud as he lobs it as hard as he can against the window of the maths building. It hits the glass with a loud bang, making the year 9 sluts scream and scuttle away from the site. “You bastard,”

“You love me!” Louis calls after him, as Zayn storms up to the window to retrieve his chalk. The bell rings for 4th period and Louis takes his and Zayn’s bag to double Chemistry, knowing he’s not nearly high enough to get through this.

Louis’ Chem partner is nice enough. He’s in Louis’ track team as well, and lets him do whatever the hell he wants in the lab, so it’s pretty great, actually. He also appreciates a good prank, and practically worships the football team, so Louis rather likes him, actually. When Louis sits down at his desk, he bumps fists with the runner and settles in to his seat, only getting his notepad out so he can sketch a picture of Ackney with a kilt on to stick on his wall at home. Zayn’s been teaching him to draw.

“Why’ve you got two bags?” The runner asks.

Louis just grins. “Kicked Zayn in the balls then nabbed his bag. It’s gonna be hilarious when he turns up, you mark my words.”

The runner just grins in response and mutters ‘excellent’ under his breath, but Louis hears it. He rather likes being called excellent. The curly queer from the showers shows up and shoves his stupid curly face right in front of Louis’ seat, it’s fucking annoying. (Not that he can help it, what with there being a seating plan and all. Just another reason for Louis to draw a cock on Ackney’s face.)

“Oh, no, Tomlinson,” Ackney says as he walks through the door and places a bunch of paper on his desk. “You and Anderson aren’t sitting next to each other again, not after last week’s…incident.”

The class giggles and Louis grins smugly. In the experiment last week, Louis had ‘accidently’ got too carried away with the explosives, and ended up ‘accidently’ making a soap bomb, which he proceeded to throw on the teacher’s desk and ruin all his marking. It was a great lesson.

“We’ll put you next to someone like…” He trails off, looking round the room. His eyes land on Louis again and he smirks. “Someone like Mr Styles. Mr Payne, Mr Tomlinson, if you’d be so kind as to switch places.”

Louis grumbles under his breath and picks up his two bags, slumping in the chair next to Mr Styles, who just so happened to be– the curly haired gay boy, whom he wants to face fuck. Perfect. Maybe Louis should’ve kept that spliff all to himself, he has a feeling just a couple of hits really aren’t going to be enough.

***

“Louis Tomlinson, you are the biggest tit I have ever known,” Zayn screeches, interrupting the teacher mid-sentence and bursting into the classroom. “I’d break both your legs if we didn’t need you for next week’s game,”

“Nice to know I’m useful to you, Zaynie,” Louis smirks, chewing his pen.

“Mr Malik, get out of my classroom!” Ackney shouts, but Zayn just ignores him, thrusting his hand out in Louis’ face.

“Give it back,” he says simply.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Give what back, Zaynie poo?”

“Don’t make me do it, Louis, you know I will.”

“Awwh but Zayn, I drew you a picture, see?” Louis pouts and turns his notebook round so Zayn can see. “Look, it’s Ackney with a giant cock coming out of his face and his kilt blowing in the wind,”

“I’m warning you, Zayn,” Ackley says again over the class’s laughter.

“It looks like someone threw up biro on your page,” He says in response, throwing curly fag’s ruler at Louis’ face. Curly bites his lip, but Louis knows he wants to protest.

“You’re so mean, Zayn, I don’t know why we’re even friends,” Louis pouts again. He doesn’t miss the way curly fag snorts under his breath and mutters something to himself, and apparently Zayn doesn’t either.

“What was that, you faggot?” Zayn sneers in his face. The boy gulps and Louis feels like he needs to intervene, but he doesn’t. “What are you doing sitting next to this queer, Tommo, I’ve heard it’s catching.”

A chair scrapes behind them and Louis guesses that’ll be Liam, the fag’s trained bulldog, always fighting his fights for him. “Watch what you say, Malik.”

“Or what, Payne,” Zayn sniggers, getting out of the queer’s face and getting all up in Liam’s instead. Louis isn’t much of a fighter, Zayn is, but Louis doesn’t care for it, so he does what he always does and shies away from it. Louis has had too many fights in his life to know when the right time to pick a fight is, and when it’s better to leave it. Zayn doesn’t have that privilege.

Liam just laughs, looking down at Zayn, “I don’t think you want to find out.”

“Oh yeah? Try–” Zayn begins, but Louis interrupts him with a sigh. He can’t let his best mate get kicked out of school for something as stupid as that faggot he’s sitting next to, it’s just not worth it.

“Zayn stop it, here’s your bag, leave.” He says, holding Zayn’s bag out for him. Zayn takes one look at the cold, challenging look in his eye and huffs, takes the bag and makes towards the door.

“I love you, arsehole,” Zayn shouts from the corridor.

Louis chuckles and shouts back, “I love you too, dick bucket.”

He hears another snort from beside him and raises an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“So it’s okay for you to say you love your guy best friend, but as soon as I do it, it’s wrong and gay?” He says calmly, though Louis can tell he’s tense, there’s a certain tension in his shoulder muscles and his grip around that pencil is frighteningly tight.

Louis pauses for a moment. “Yes, exactly. Hit the nail on the head, curly fag.”

“I have a name,” he points out.

“That doesn’t mean I care.”

The boy sighs, and mumbles under his breath, “It’s Harry.”

Louis thinks it suits him, but doesn’t say anything out loud, just turns the page over in his notepad and starts re-drawing the picture of Ackney so it’s to Zayn’s standards.

***

Harry doesn’t know why he’s back in the changing rooms after school. Actually, that’s a total lie, he’s there because sweat is gross and he’s just run around the track seventeen times. Harry hates P.E with a passion, but ever since his illness, he’s forced to do one session of exercise a week, every week, to ensure he stays at a healthy weight. When he refused, the school took away his free fifth period on a Thursday and forced him to join in a year 11 P.E lesson, which is humiliating enough in itself.

What’s more humiliating, is that Harry is so ashamed of himself that he has to wait until all the scabby sixteen year olds have gone and he’s alone in the changing rooms before he has a shower.

Except Harry learns just as he’s finishing up, that today, he isn’t alone.

“ _And I don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause I don’t think that they’d understand,_ ” It’s the same voice as before, the beautiful one that Harry absolutely needs to partner with, to stand any chance of winning the competition. As soon as he hears it, Harry grabs his wrap around towel and drapes it over his body, creeping towards the angelic voice.

“ _When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I–_ ”

Harry sees his head over the top of the cubicle, and can’t even stop himself from yelling out the familiar name in surprise. “Louis?”

Louis jumps (and screams a little bit) and turns around to face him, razor poised and ready to attack. When he sees it’s only Harry, he relaxes, if only a little. “What the fuck are you doing here, curly fag?”

“My name’s Harry,” he mumbles, and Louis raises an eyebrow – it’s the _‘I don’t give a fuck’_ eyebrow raise. “I– sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, but– you _sing_?”

“No,” Louis says immediately.

Harry is confused. “But I just heard you,”

“No you didn’t,” Louis says. His voice is hard and angry as he turns back around to turn the shower off and wrap a towel around his waist. “You didn’t fucking hear anything, are we clear, faggot?”

Harry winces, Louis has never called him that before. The others do, sure, but Louis normally sticks to gay-boy or curly fag. It’s not much better, not in the slightest, but it feels like Louis cares about his feeling at least a little bit to not be full on rude and call him a faggot like he’s the scum of the earth. It’s as if Harry hearing him sing is a game changer, and he’s no longer going to be less horrible than his teammates are to him. Maybe Louis is ashamed of his voice, which would be a terrible thing, it’s so special and Harry is already in love with it.

“Louis, you have nothing to be ashamed of, if that’s the issue,” he says, following Louis out of the wet room and into the locker area. “Your voice is beautiful, some pe–”

“By all means, carry on talking if you want me to punch you in the face,” Louis growls, as he grabs another towel and stats wiping down his arms and legs. The fact that he doesn’t trust Harry around him while he’s not covered up says a lot, and it hurts him, but…it’s probably for the best. Louis is mega fit, and Harry has really bad restraint.

“It’s okay, I know you won’t.”

Louis snorts, “Oh yeah? And what makes you say that?”

“I’ve seen you with Zayn,” Harry mumbles, not entirely sure where all this newfound confidence has come from, “You don’t fight and you don’t let him fight either,”

“I don’t let him fight when it’s not worth it,”

Harry smirks, watching the way Louis’ back ripples when he pulls a polo shirt over his head. “So I’m worth it, then?”

“Right now?” Harry nods and Louis bites his lip. “Right now, if it gets you to shut up and leave me the hell alone, then it’s definitely worth it.”

Harry bites back a smile and swallows his laughter, because Louis is really cute and hot when he’s just come out of the shower, and it’s confusing Harry’s insides, he doesn’t know whether to coo or pounce. Obviously, he wouldn’t do either, in fear of being beaten to a pulp, but it’s still an internal dilemma he has to face. Louis is standing in his boxers and shirt when Harry snaps out of his trance, drying his hair with a hand towel and checking himself out in the mirror.

“There’s this competition coming up,” Harry says nervously, he knows Louis won’t go for it, but he has to try at least, “A singing competition. I need a partner for the duet in the first round, and–”

“No.” He says sternly, glaring at Harry in the mirror. “Absolutely and completely one hundred percent no.”

“But–”

Louis growls again and spins round to face the curly haired boy, “Just because we spoke once in Chemistry doesn’t mean we’re friends,”

“You could come check out my skill if you want. My sister owns the bar round the corner from school called ‘the flying cock’ and me and my friend Niall do the entertainment on a Saturday,” Harry offers. He knows it’s a long shot as he watches Louis pull on his incredibly tight skinny jeans and stuff his socks in his gym bag, before slipping on his shoes. Louis is leaving and there’s nothing Harry can do to stop him.

“Why on earth would I want to do that?” Louis chuckles.

“I’ll make sure you get free drinks all evening,” Harry smiles when Louis actually pauses to think about it for a second, before shaking his head again.

“I’m not gonna be there,” He says as he heads out the double doors at the end of the locker room.

Harry grins, he knows he’ll turn up, “We start at eight pm,”

“Still not going,” Louis calls from the other side of the doors and Harry bites his lip, trying to hide his smile. The things that boy does to him, honestly, it’s embarrassing.

Slowly, Harry unwraps the towels from his body, mindful of the sore marks on his skin and starts to carefully dry himself off, before slipping his clothes on, before school clubs start and all the footballers, boxers, track team, hockey players and rugby players rush in to the locker rooms to get changed. Harry walks over to the mirror and sweeps his hair over to the side, mimicking what Louis had done only moments before, and smiles to himself.

He’ll be there, Harry knows he will.

***

“Seestra!” Harry calls as he makes his way over to the bar. He’s bored with setting up the stage now and Niall and Gemma’s boyfriend, Josh, said they’d finish up without him. Besides, it’s easier to see the door from the bar, and Harry’s expecting someone. “A pint of lager if you please,”

Gemma snorts loudly and hands over a bottle to a burly man sitting next to Harry. “No chance, baby brother,”

“What’s the point in having a sister with a bar if she won’t even give you alcohol?” He pouts, scowling at the lemonade she places in front of him. “Hey, speaking of,”

“No,” Gemma says immediately.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” he huffs in reply, poking his tongue out at the girl behind the bar. Harry hates his sister sometimes (but he actually loves her, don’t tell anyone).

“I know for a fact I’m not going to like it,” she replies and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Anyway,” he says dramatically, “I invited someone to watch me tonight and I, uhm, I kinda told him you would give him free drinks if he came,”

Gemma sighs dramatically, “Harry, you know I can’t afford to do that, I barely make enough to scrape by as it is.”

“Well I had to bribe him some way, didn’t I?”

“Harry, look,” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I get that you want to impress your boyfriend–”

“Whoa whoa, back up sis,” Harry says with a frown (and maybe a little blush, no one needs to know), “Louis isn’t my boyfriend. I just want him to do a duet with me for the competition, that’s all.”

Gemma frowns. Harry gives her the puppy dog eyes, and eventually she gives in, “Alright fine. But he’s only getting three freebees, that’s all I can manage tonight. Who is it I’m looking out for did you say?”

“Remember,” Harry bites his lip. “Remember Louis Tomlinson from school?”

Gemma’s face goes hard. She was there for four years while Louis and his friends bullied Harry every singles day. As hard as she tried to stop it, boys will be boys, and they just made sure she was distracted while they beat him into a pulp at lunch. Harry knows Gemma still feels bad for letting them get to him like that, but he doesn’t blame her, not one bit.

“What the hell are you inviting that piece of shit for?”

“He’s got an amazing voice, Gem, he just needs a bit of coaxing out of his shell,” he says, looking at the door briefly – still no signs of Louis. “But you shouldn’t have to worry, it doesn’t look like he’s coming anyway,”

She goes soft then, sighs sympathetically and give him the look, the sorry lil bro look. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,”

“Maybe,” Harry mumbles, but he knows this is his last option.

Niall taps the mic then, and the bar goes silent. “Hi everyone! I’m Niall, this guy here is Josh, and somewhere or other is Harry,” Harry rolls his eyes fondly and a few people laugh, “Any who, we’ll be starting our set in a few minutes, so grab a drink from the bar and get settled in your seats while we finish up! Hope you all have a good time!”

“Well, that’s my cue I guess,” Harry sighs, upset that Louis is a no show. “Promise you’ll be nice if he shows up,”

“I’ll do my best,” Gemma glares, before giving him a kiss on the cheek for good luck, and Harry runs up on stage. He takes the bass from its stand and gives Niall and Josh high fives, before grabbing the mic in front of him and clearing his throat.

“Hi everyone! How we all doing?” the crowd cheers and it makes Harry smile. He loves this, being on stage, he wouldn’t want to do anything else for the rest of his life, “Good! Feel free to sing along in you know the words to this first song, it’s called Big Me,”

The crowd cheers again as Niall starts to strum on the guitar, Josh and Harry joining soon after. Always start and finish with a crowd pleaser, one everyone knows the words to. As Harry looks out across the crowd, opening his mouth to sing the first lines of the song, his eyes are drawn to the closing door, from which a certain Louis Tomlinson has just entered through.

Harry knew he’d be here.

***

Louis stuffs his hands in his denim jacket as he makes his way to the bar, lowering his head in case anyone from school recognised him. He’s only here for the beer, he tells himself, he’s only here for the beer.

Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but Louis knows the real reason he’s here is because he’s intrigued by Harry. He’s intrigued by how he can be so open about who he is, how he can be so forward and confident, yet cowers in the corner when Louis’ with his friends. He’s intrigued by his musical talent, by his theory on Louis’ musical talent. Just intrigued by him in general.

Louis would be lying if he said he didn’t spend the past two days thinking about Harry and their strange meeting in the locker room. What can he say, the boy caught his attention, it’s hard for Louis to drop it when something’s caught his attention. Just to be clear, though, Louis is _not_ gay.

“Pint of bitter please, love,” he mumbles to the pretty barmaid. She has blonde hair with pastel blues, pinks and purples dyed into the bottom, her eyeliner is thick black, bordering on slutty, but having said that, she does have great knockers. Louis can’t help but think she looks familiar.

The barmaid scowls at him and slams the pint down in front of him with a grumble. Louis grins and winks at her, making the barmaid roll her eyes. He’s about to say something, no one treats Louis Tomlinson like that, when a deep gravelly voice creeps into his ears, completely startling the life out of him.

“ _Don’t stop believing, hold on to that feeling,_ ”

Louis rolls his eyes, because _of course_ Harry Styles listens to Journey. Louis himself hates old fogie music, prefers a bit of pop or soft rock, but even he can’t deny that Harry sounds bloody brilliant, even if the song is awful. He absolutely owns the stage, makes that weird blond kid he recognises from school and some other guy on the drums look like awkward turtles, even though they’re jumping around like little rockers themselves. The music nerd looks like he was born to do this, born to perform on stage, and he plays the bass pretty well.

“We’re going to take a break now,” Harry says into the mic, over the last chords of the song, and the crowd boos, “But don’t worry, we’ll be back soon– and with a special guest!”

Louis can’t help but smile fondly at Harry’s stage presence. The lights hit him at such an angle, it makes him look almost angelic– eyes glistening, cheeks tinted and hair shiny. Louis kind of wants to ruin him (in a totally hetero way, obviously).

“Louis, you came!” Harry says loudly as he bounds up to Louis at the bar, a giant grin on his face. Louis has to work hard to keep a straight face. Before he even gets a chance to reply, Harry turns to the blond boy, the one he’s always hanging around school with, and sticks his tongue out. “Told you he’d come,”

The boy sighs and digs into his pocket. “Right, better give you that twenty quid then,”

“Niall!” Harry whispers scolding, his cheeks flushing red. Louis raises an eyebrow.

“You bet on whether I would turn up or not?” He asks, amused. Niall shrugs with an apologetic smile on his face and Harry coughs awkwardly. “Nice, I reckon we should split the money, curly,”

“Why’s that?”

Louis grins widely. “I’m the bet, surely I should get paid. Oh and you should have a bit for winning, I suppose.”

Both boys laugh and Louis feels extremely pleased with himself that he’s still got the charm he was born with. Suck it, Zayn.

“Ugh, why is he even _here_ ,” someone behind him mutters, and Louis looks round to see it’s that god awful barmaid who was nothing but rude to him earlier. Louis scowls.

“Gem, be nice,” Harry warns, “He’s here because I invited him here, remember? We had this conversation earlier, didn’t we,”

“He hurts you, Harry, I don’t want some stuck up arsehole that bullies my baby brother in my pub, alright.” She says with a scowl on her face. Louis sits up straight, utterly offended. He’s never hurt Harry – at least not intentionally – Louis doesn’t believe in violence and he categorically refuses to be _one of those_ popular people, who bully the queer kid. Louis isn’t stupid, he knows what his mates get up to, but he has never had any part in it.

“Hey, I never– wait, she’s your _sister_?”

Harry shrugs apologetically and Louis almost kills himself right there and then. Jesus, he can’t _believe_ he was considering hitting on Gemma Styles. The weird camera kid a couple of years older than him, who would always flirt with the footie team so Harry could get from one place of the school to the other without getting beat up. Louis briefly wonders if she’s still with that dickhead who made her have an abortion because he wasn’t _‘ready for a child’_. Louis would never do that.

“He’s only here for the drinks anyway, Haz, might as well send him home right now.”

Harry slams his hand on the bar. “That’s not true, is it Louis?”

Louis gulps. Oh.

“Came for the drinks, stayed for the music,” He says honestly. He would’ve had his free pint and left, if it wasn’t for the way Harry captivated him even more when he sang, when he was on stage. It made Louis ten times more intrigued in the boy, to the point where it’s kind of embarrassing.

Harry’s grin falters briefly, but he quickly picks it back up again, eyes glinting with mischief. “Well it’s a good job you stayed, because you’re the special guest. Come on,”

Louis chokes. “What?”

“Well, we need to see if our voices sound good together if we’re going to duet for the competition,” Harry says, dragging Louis up on stage.

“I never said I was doing the stupid competition in the first place,” Louis grumbles, though Harry doesn’t seem to hear him.

“No time like the present, right,” He grins, picking up an acoustic guitar and putting the strap over his shoulder. Harry picks up a mic and clears his throat loudly, grabbing the attention of the audience. “Everyone, this is Louis, he’s going to sing a song for you,”

He passes the mic to Louis, who takes it with shaking hands and gulps loudly. He looks out into the silent crowd, suddenly feeling the nerves rise in his stomach. Louis’ never sung in front of an audience before. “Uh… hi,”

“Do you know the words to Valarie?” Harry whispers as he tunes the guitar quietly.

Louis snorts – of course he knows the words to Valerie. “Who doesn’t?”

Harry grins and starts to strum at the guitar. Louis gulps and looks out to the audience again, gripping the mic tightly. They’re expectant and Louis doesn’t like the judgemental look in their eyes as he waits for the intro to end. He clears his throat nervously, wondering if he’s actually going to open his mouth, or just let Harry play an instrumental for three minutes. Finally, he thinks to hell with it, and throws all caution to the wind.

“ _Well sometimes I go out by myself, and I look across the water_ ,”

***

“Louis Tomlinson, you dirty stop out!” Zayn calls as he approaches Louis in the hallway and flings an arm round his shoulders. Louis flinches. “C’mon then, it better be good, the reason you bailed on me on Saturday.”

“I was tired,” he lies softly. Louis still hasn’t told Zayn – or anyone else, for that matter – about the pub on Saturday, he’s a little bit ashamed of himself, if he’s honest. Louis’ having a hard time admitting to himself that he actually had a great time on that stage with Harry, singing three encores at the crowd’s request, it just made him feel loved. He felt appreciated up there on that stage, knowing the cheers were for _him_ and _his_ voice (and Harry as well, but he gets cheers every week, Louis is taking the credit for this) and he’s not gonna lie, being up on that stage felt.. right.

“You’re never too tired for bong night, Lou,” Zayn chuckles and Louis forces himself to crack a smile as well. “Alright, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he replies nonchalantly.

“Is it me?”

Louis splutters out a laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement. “No!”

“I feel like I’ve done something wrong, Louis.” Zayn mumbles, and Louis can hear his pout, “You completely ditched me on Saturday, you never turned up to my cousin’s house party Monday and you haven’t spoken to me in four days, even though we always meet up on my days off.”

Louis snorts. “Do you realise how much of a girl you sound right now?”

“You’re such a knob,” Zayn says, pinching Louis’ side.

“I know,” Louis grins, kissing his cheek, making to get extra slobber on his face.

Zayn grimaces and wipes his cheek clean. “Stop being a knob and tell me where you were on Saturday, and why you’ve been ignoring me.”

Saved by the bell is an actual thing, Louis discovers, as the shrill noise rips through his ears and mentally deafens the two boys. He is both extremely grateful and extremely pissed off at the school bell.

“Sorry babes, gotta go to class,” He grins, giving Zayn another kiss on the cheek, before running off down the hall before Zayn can protest.

“You’re such a dick head,” Zayn calls down the hall.

Louis grins and replies over his shoulder, “Love you too, Zaynie!”

As soon as Louis gets to class, he realises why rushing was a bad idea and immediately remembers why he was ambling in the first place. Double Photography – with Harry. Great.

He’s been ignoring the boy ever since Saturday, Louis isn’t really sure why, he just knows he doesn’t really know what he feels for Harry any more. It used to be hatred, well not _hatred_ , but dislike, but every second longer he spends in his presence, Louis finds himself growing more and more fond of the boy. When he saw him in Film Studies yesterday, Louis got butterflies in his stomach, and he isn’t sure he likes what that means. (Louis is so glad he and his partner were working on the other side of the room, so he didn’t have to speak to Harry at all.)

Photography is a shit course, Louis only takes it because they wouldn’t let him back on design tech, after he pretty much sawed his own finger off (thankfully a hot nurse at A&E sewed it back on for him) and apparently its ‘not safe’ for him to be working with sharp objects. What a load of bull. But, as much as Louis hates it, he realises that one perk is that all they do is watch a lot of slide shows, go to museums and write theory on cameras and shots and stuff. Louis is yet to move out of his seat at all this year, which means he hopefully won’t have to deal with Harry at all.

Yes, he thinks, double Photography is going to be just fine.

“Alright class, we’ve got an awful lot of coursework to get through these upcoming months, since we’ve been stuck doing theory so far, but that means we’re going to start taking pictures,” there is a collective quiet cheer that rumbles over the classroom and Louis sinks further into his seat. “Since the topic is natural beauty, I thought we’d go out into the woods and take some nature shots today. Everyone grab a camera!”

Louis begrudgingly stands from his desk and picks up a camera from the case – making sure Harry is long gone first – before following the rest of the class out of the school building. There is a small wood that sits at the back of the school, a metal gate separating the trees from the play field Louis is extremely familiar with. Louis half snoozes through the briefing, and wanders deep into the woods as soon as they’re allowed to go. He doesn’t intend on taking many pictures.

He decides to take a few, however, just so he has something to show for and hopefully won’t get kicked off another course, but unfortunately for Louis, he seems to have picked up a shitty camera that doesn’t even turn on. “Fucks sake, c’mon,” Louis grumbles under his breath as he pushes all the buttons, hoping one will work, “Why won’t you god damn–”

“Having a little trouble?” Louis knows that voice, that cheeky, perky, deep voice – the one that haunts his dreams. Louis scowls at the ground and keeps fiddling with the camera, but doesn’t respond, hoping that is he ignores him, Harry will just walk away. Harry reaches for the camera, sighing. “Here, let me, you’re gonna–”

“I don’t need your help, gay-boy,” Louis growls, heart feeling heavy with guilt as soon as he does.

He can practically feel Harry’s heart drop to his stomach. “Back to the name calling, I see,”

“That we are,” Louis confirms, giving up with the camera completely and putting it on the floor by the base of a tree. There’s a long silence, and Louis thinks Harry may have gone away, but then he hears a desperate sigh, and two large hands grip his arms tightly, spinning him round.

“Louis,” Harry whines, “Why won’t you talk to me? What have I done wrong?”

“Does existing count?” Louis growls.

There’s a beat of silence, where Louis thinks Harry might burst into tears, but instead he seems to be… analysing Louis? His eyes are scrutinizing as he reads his face, and Louis is literally about to crack under his gaze, when Harry’s mouth cracks into a small smug smile and he slowly lets go of Louis’ arm.

“You’re scared,” he observes, Louis wants to kick him. “You’re scared because you don’t want to admit to yourself how much you enjoyed being on that stage on Saturday, how much you enjoyed singing to a crowd.”

Louis gulps, but puts on a brave face and laughs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were a Psychologist, Harry. What a load of bullshit.”

“I don’t need to be. I can see it in your eyes how scared you are.”

Louis shakes his head in protest. “I’m not–”

“It’s okay that you feel like this, Louis. Everyone who has ever rebelled against the norm has always had doubts before they took the plunge. But they all went through with it, and now they’re famous, heroes, people admire and look up to them because they rebelled.” Harry smiles kindly.

“People already look up to me,” Louis snorts, “I’m captain of the football team, every single person in this school either wants to be me or date me.”

“Just,” Harry sighs, shaking his head a little. “Just don’t not sing because you feel like you shouldn’t. Do what you love Louis, and if people don’t respect you for it, then screw them.”

Louis laughs again. “If only it was that simple. You really don’t get it, do you?” Harry stays silent. “It’s not that I don’t sing because people will judge me, I don’t sing because I don’t _want_ to sing.”

Lie lie lie li elielie lie lie liel ielie.

“Louis, you–” The whistle, indicating they need to meet back with the teacher, blows, making Harry stop and sigh. “I have a free tomorrow last period, and Mr Gregory said I could stay in the music room if I wanted. Why don’t you come along?”

Louis snorts. “Not a chance,”

“Good, I’ll see you there, then,” Harry smirks as the two walk back to the metal gate.

“I literally just said I wasn’t going,” Louis says, annoyed. He grips the camera in his hand tightly, and briefly ponders hitting Harry over the head with it.

“Yeah, but you said that last time, and guess what,” Harry says quietly as they re-join the group. Louis scowls. “You turned up.”

Louis wants to punch something super hard. What on earth is this boy doing to him?

***

When Harry gets in that evening, he tries to shut the front door as quietly as possible, as usual. He knows his mum is in, because he saw the car in the drive on the way in, and so tries to be as quietly as possible so he could avoid her questioning. Just as he thinks he’s succeeded, she comes rushing into the hall, whisk in her hand.

“Afternoon sweetie, how was your day?” she asks, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“It was fine,” he mumbles in response, glaring at his shoes.

Anne tenses up immediately. “Something happened. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes. She always does this, always makes something out of nothing.

“Do I need to call the headmaster?” she asks worriedly, cupping Harry’s face in her hands and trying to inspect him for damage, even though Harry just told her there wasn’t any. Harry scoffs and wrestles his way out of her grip.

“No,” he says firmly, trudging up the stairs furiously. Why can’t she just keep her damn nose out of his private business? “Don’t bother calling me for dinner, mum,”

“Harry, darling, you need to eat if you’re going to get better,” Anne says softly. Harry stops dead in his tracks and turns around to face her, face heating up.

“Just because that shitty doctor tells you some bullcrap doesn’t make it true,” he says. It’s probably a bit harsh, but Harry gets this literally every day when he comes home from school and he’s sick of it. “One meal isn’t going to hurt.”

“Just as long as you promise to eat a bigger breakfast tomorrow. I don’t want you falling off the wagon, dear.” She replies and Harry rolls his eyes, stomping his way up to his bedroom. Harry hates his home life.

Ever since Gemma moved in with Josh last year, he’s been the main focus of his mother’s attention, something he’s definitely not used to. It’s not like Anne is a bad mum or anything, Harry loves her to bits, but there is absolutely no way she didn’t realise he was ill, no matter what she claims. What kind of person wouldn’t notice their only son showing signs of mental illness? Harry thought she knew him better than that.

But still, it took until he had physically passed out from lack of energy, to realise there was something wrong, and it’s wasn’t until Harry tried to top himself that she actually sought help, in the form of a snooty psychiatrist who thinks he knows best for Harry. He clearly doesn’t.

Dr Graham thinks Harry should stop focusing on music and focus more on trying to get better. He’s the arsehole that demanded Harry do at least an hour of exercise every week and claims that Harry needs three meals a day, _and_ that he needs to eat all of it. _Please_ , Harry survived for two years on nothing but half a banana a day, he thinks he can survive on two half eaten meals (maybe only one, Harry doesn’t eat his lunch).

Basically, Harry despises his doctor and can’t wait to get rid of him – but that involves getting well, which seems to be taking a bit longer than he originally thought. Dr Graham reckons that’s because of his ‘distractions’ but why should Harry stop doing something he loves just because an old man with a PHD tells him to? Maybe he forgot that Harry has depression and pretty much needs as much happiness in his life as he can get.

Which brings Harry on to Louis, his crush since for ever. Louis is so happy and pure and it lights up Harry’s world – even if until recently Louis had been a proper dickhead and basically stood by and watched him get beaten up. He kind of hates the fact that he has no cares in the world, Louis’ life is completely perfect, unlike Harry’s, which is a mess. But he kind of loves that, even though he is clearly a descendant of heaven, Louis still takes his time to make everyone around him feel happy and appreciated.

Harry’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he lazily answers the oncoming call, without even bothering to sit up, from his position sprawled out on the bed, or open his eyes. He assumes it’s Niall, so doesn’t bother looking at the caller ID before he angrily says, “What?”

“Harry, hi, it’s Dr Graham,” the gruff voice says from the other side of the phone. Harry rolls his eyes.

“Oh,” he says blankly. Honestly, Harry would prefer it if it was Niall.

“How are you feeling?” Dr Graham asks.

Harry rolls his eyes again. “Our session isn’t or another week,”

“I know,” he says, clearing his throat, “I thought we could have a catch up,”

“What has she said about me?”

There’s a pause, presumably Dr Graham thinking of a way he can swing it, before he seemingly gives up with a defeated sigh, “She’s worried about you,” Harry scoffs, “And I’m glad she called, you do know this counts as a relapse?”

Harry scoffs again and rolls his eyes.  “What, missing one meal?”

“Yes,” he says through the phone, as if it’s obvious. Harry doesn’t say anything, Dr Graham sighs. “Harrys, amongst other things, you have clinical–”

“Anyway,” he says abruptly. Harry doesn’t like being told his mental issues, as if he doesn’t already know what they are.  Dr Graham clears his throat awkwardly, sensing Harry’s discomfort.

“When you have disorders such as these, missing a meal is a big deal. We’ve made so much progress over the past six months, don’t throw it all down the drain now,”

“I just don’t feel like eating, _geez,_ is that a crime?” Harry exclaims rudely, but it’s not like he cares – the objective is to get rid of the shit, not make friends with him.

Dr Graham doesn’t answer that question, just replies with another, “What _do_ you feel?”

Harry bites his lip, unsure of what to say. He feels on top of the damn world right now, seeing as Louis has finally stopped avoiding him, and he pretty much agreed to be alone in a room with Harry tomorrow, but he doesn’t know if he can tell his doctor that. What if he tells his mum?

“Happy,” is what he settles for.

“Mhm,” he mumbles, and Harry can hear a familiar scratching sound, indicating Dr Graham is writing it all down, the fucker, “Any particular reason?”

Harry bites his lip again and sits up on his bed. “You won’t tell anyone? Especially my mum?”

“Of course not, Harry,”

Fuck it.

“There’s this boy at school, the captain of the football team, I told you about him, remember?” Dr Graham hums in agreement, “He never really used to like me, but we’ve sort of gotten close recently, and after I sang with him on Saturday he started ignoring me, but he spoke to me today, and he pretty much agreed to meeting me tomorrow, just us two,”

“That’s great,” Dr Graham says and he does genuinely sound pleased. “It’s good to hear you’re making new friends.”

Harry bites his lip so hard he draws blood.

“Well,” he mumbles shyly, “I sort of, maybe, kind of want to be more than friends?”

“Oh,” Dr Graham says, he doesn’t sound pleased anymore. “Well, that’s uhm…”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to say it, I already know what a disgusting fag I am,” Harry sighs, closing his eyes slowly. He’d been naïve enough to think that his doctor would be okay with it.

“No, Harry, that’s not what I–”

“Bye doctor, see you next week in clinic,” he mumbles, hanging up the phone and tiredly throwing it on the pillow. Harry’s just a little tired of being judged.

***

Harry hums along to the chords he’s playing on piano. He’s long since given up on the thought of Louis actually coming along to the music room, seeing as it’s been half an hour and the boy still hasn’t shown. Harry really thought he’d cracked it this time, but apparently not.

“ _Don’t let me, don’t let me, don’t let me go, ‘cos_ – something something – _alone_ ,” he mutters with little to no commitment. It’s not like it even matters anyway, he’s never going to get this song finished in time for the national competition (if he even gets that far – Harry hasn’t even got a partner for the first round of the county competition, it’s foolish to think he’ll get any further). Maybe he’ll just use _Happily_ instead.

He plays the chords again and again, enjoying the way the sound bounces off the walls and vibrates around the whole room, filling his very essence with music. It lets him forget, if only for a moment, it lets him forget about the outside, where he’s unappreciated and bullied for expressing himself, the outside world which he hates so much he’d rather die than live in. And that is the exact reason he loves music in the first place. It’s an escape for him, an escape from his shitty life. “ _Don’t let me, don’t let me, don’t let me go–_ ”

“ _’Cos I’m tired of feeling alone,_ ”

Harry jumps, fingers sticking to the keys and making an awful screeching noise he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy – _cough_ Zayn Malik _cough_ – before he turns around to find the culprit. To his surprise, who Harry sees leaning against the doorway of the music room, arms folded and a small smirk on his face, is none other than Louis Tomlinson. Harry grins wider than he thought was possible.

“I mean, it fits, dunnit?” Louis says, head cocked to the side. He suddenly looks incredibly nervous, as if he’s worried he’s crossed some sort of imaginary line that doesn’t exist.

Harry nods wildly, turning back around to neatly write the lyrics on the sheet music spread across the top of the piano. While his back is turned, Harry beckons Louis to come over, and after a while feels his presence closer than before, awkward and unsure. Harry doesn’t like it. “Sit,”

Louis sits on the piano stool, slipping his bag off his shoulder. Harry puts the sheet music back on the stand and sits down next to Louis, ‘accidently’ bumping their shoulders together as he runs his fingers over the keys, the sweet melody of Don’t Let Me Go echoing around the room. Louis gets the hint a few seconds after Harry pointedly looks at him and holds the note a little longer than normal, and smiles to himself, singing the gappy lyrics Harry has written down. Occasionally, he sings something to fill in the gap and Harry has to stop playing to write it down on his test sheet. It’s not until they’ve got through the whole three and a bit minutes (that quickly turns into at least twenty) that Harry realises Louis just helped him right a song.

“It’s a nice song, Harry,” he says softly once they’ve played from beginning to end, Harry blushes.

“Thanks, I, uh– I’d been stuck on it for a while now,” he says shyly, shuffling papers around nervously, “I mean it’s not finished yet but, you helped a lot, so. Thanks.”

Louis chuckles and flicks his fringe out of his eyes. “It’s alright, curly. I– um– I sort of enjoyed myself,” Harry feels like he wants to burst into tears he’s so happy, “So is that the song we’re doing for the competition?”

“Is that, do you mean you– are you–” Harry stutters, not sure if he actually heard that or imagined it.

Louis laughs again, “Yeah. If you’ll have me, I’d love to do the duet with you.”

Harry doesn’t squeal. ( _Lie,_ he totally does.)

“That, uhm, no, we’re not doing an original for that round,” he says nervously, flicking through the sheets of paper to find the potential duet song he created all those months ago. “I was thinking of  Beatles slash Adele mash up?”

“Sounds interesting, do explain.”

“So like, one of us starts with Someone Like You – I’m thinking you, purely ‘cos your voice is more suited to higher notes than mine – and then in the chorus the other one does Let It Be, with a bit of Adele in the background?” He says, Harry is shit at explaining things, “And then for the second verse we do Let It Be and the last chorus both songs kind of go in and out? If you get me?”

Louis smiles kindly and shakes his head with a soft giggle, “I can’t say I do, I’m afraid you’ll have to show me,”

“Right,” Harry mutters, hands suddenly become extremely sweaty with nerves. He’s done this loads of times before, he can do this. It’s only Louis. Harry puts his hands on the keys (ignoring how cold they feel under his hot fingers) and is just about to play when the bell rings, startling both of them. Louis’ eyes go comically wide.

“Shit, shit, crap, bollocks,” he mumbles, scrambling up and grabbing his bag from under the piano, “I’ve got a game in half an hour, I was supposed to use my free period for warm ups. Of fuck, coach is gonna kill me,”

Harry just watches him panic and gather himself. It’s only until Louis is at the door that Harry comes to the realisation he doesn’t want Louis to leave, and cries out for the other boy to stop. “Can I… I mean, can I watch?”

“My game?” Louis asks, laughing a little. Harry isn’t known for his love of football. “Sure, I guess,”

“I totally get it if you don’t want me there,” Harry says quickly, sensing Louis’ hesitation, “Not exactly the coolest person you want to be seen with, am I?”

“Harry,” Louis says softly, and Harry’s breath quickens because, well, he doesn’t think Louis has ever used his real name before today, “I want you there,”

Harry grins wider than he thought was possible and grabs his bag from the chair, rushing out the door with Louis. When they get to the field, Louis positions Harry so he’s standing with the mums and pretty much gets the best view of the game. It’s glorious.

***

Louis locks his car and hesitantly opens the front door. He knows he’s going to get a bollocking for being home late, but he was out celebrating with his team. They won, is the thing, proper blew that pretentious public school out the water, _four_ – _nil_ , and when Zayn demanded coach take them all out for ice cream, no one was complaining. They’ve agreed to make it a ritual when they win big, victory ice cream as Louis has oh so cleverly dubbed it.

But because of victory ice cream, he’s not home until half seven, and even though he told Ben he had a game tonight, everyone knows footie matches don’t last for three and a half hours. So when he closes the door, he tries to do it as quietly as possible so no one will know he just got home, but unfortunately, when he turns around, he makes eye contact with little Phoebe smiling at him widely on the stairs. She’s in her PJ’s, probably should be in bed right now, so Louis tries to signal to her to be quiet so Ben doesn’t find out, but he’s not fast enough, and before he knows it, she’s bundling down the stairs, arms spread out.

“Boo bear!” She says as she secures her arms around his middle. Louis chuckles and hugs her back, stroking her blonde hair away from her face.

“Hey Pheebs,” he whispers, “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I just came downstairs to ask mummy to read me a story,” she says in a matter of factly voice, “I can’t sleep without it,”

“Okay princess, want me to do it? I’m sure mummy’s tired,” Louis asks quietly, and Phoebe nods wildly, “Run upstairs then, I’m right behind you,”

Phoebe runs off and Louis chuckles to himself softly as he takes off his shoes and coat. Phoebe and Daisy are the cutest little six year old Louis has ever known, he thinks, and it’s not fair they have to grow up in this household. Lottie and Fizz managed to get out a while back, both being over twelve they decided to live with their dad instead, and Louis could be out if he wanted to as well, could quite easily move out and rent his own flat. But he can’t do that because then there’s no one to protect Pheebs and Dai, and no one to look after the little twinsie babies, Doris and Ernie, and most importantly, no one to look after his mum.

“I wondered when you would be home,” Ben’s gruff voice makes Louis jump and immediately he assumes an offensive position. Ben is about 6’4” with greasy blond hair, dirty grey eyes, pink tinted cheek – presumably a side effect from the amount of alcohol he has undoubtedly consumed tonight – and biceps the size of Louis’ thighs. He is intimidating, and Louis would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared of him.

“Yeah, had a match, remember?” he says cautiously, lowering his voice so the girls can’t hear him. He has to be strong for them, he has to fight for them.

Ben studies him for a moment, before a low growl emits from his lips and suddenly his giant hand is squeezing at Louis’ throat, using it to push him against the wall. “Matches don’t go on for four hours.”

“Won– we won,” he splutters, face going red as he tries desperately to breathe, “Victory– victory ice cream,”

The older man narrows his eyes, taking his statement into consideration slowly. His fingers don’t tighten on Louis’ neck, but they don’t let up at all either, and Louis finds himself helplessly pawing at the giant fingers, in fear of literally passing out due to lack of oxygen. Finally he gives, releasing Louis’ throat, who falls to his knees and gasps for air loudly, one arm stopping him from completely collapsing on the floor.

“Get out of my sight,” Ben spits on Louis’ face, who winces and wipes the saliva off his cheek with careful precision. Louis waits until Ben has his back turned and begins to walk away, before he stands up and asks the question he seems to find himself asking a lot these days.

“Is she conscious?”

Ben stops in his tracks and turns around slowly to face Louis, a small smirk on his face. Louis’ eyes darken. “No,”

Louis waits until he’s gone before he rushes upstairs, two at a time, and down the hall. Phoebe is waiting at her door for him, but he just kisses her on the top of her head and says “ _gotta say goodnight to mummy first_ ,” not waiting for her reply, before he’s knocking on his mum’s door, silently praying she’ll call out for him. She doesn’t.

Thankfully the door isn’t locked, and Louis opens it quickly, met with the disgusting image of the wreck Ben has left behind him. His mum’s pants are on the floor by the door, covered in spit and what could be pre-come, and Louis picks them up gingerly, tossing them in the bin by the bedside table. The bed is empty, sheets and duvet’s flung to the bottom of the bed in an angry flurry, the only thing covering the mattress is an under sheet. There’s so much blood on it that Louis sighs, ashamed of himself that he wasn’t here to protect her.

He spots her in a crumpled heap by the window, face covered with her long brunette hair, arm sprawled out on the carpet in front of her. Louis rushes over quickly and bends down at her side, whispering her name. She doesn’t stir. He pushes all the hair off her face through hot tears and sticks his phone under her nose to see if she’s breathing. She is.

Louis doesn’t move her neck, doesn’t touch her at all, he’s been to A&E too many times to know that her neck could be broken and she could get paralysed if he moves her, but he does notice a purple bruise around her nose and eye, faded yellowish ones on her left cheek, finger marks on her neck, arms, legs, so many bruises, so many cuts, so much blood. But at least she’s not dead.

Louis picks up his phone from where he put it on the floor and presses speed dial one. He answers immediately.

“Weee are the chaaamppionnnss, my freeeeiinnnd,” he sings horribly into the speaker. Zayn sounds either drunk or high, and Louis briefly thinks this is a bad idea, but he literally has no one else to turn to.

“Are you sober enough to drive?” he says quickly,

“I can be,”

“I need you to come over soon as,” Louis mutters, balancing his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he tentatively rolls his mum over so she’s in the recovery position, “I don’t want to leave the kids alone with him and I’ve got to go out,”

“What about your mum?” Zayn asks, Louis can hear his frown.

“Exactly,” he says quietly, “She’s out cold, Z, I can’t leave her like this, I think she needs medical help,”

“Alright mate, I’m on my way,”

Louis nods and hangs up quickly, gathering his mum’s fragile body in his arms. He sits her on the vanity stool and finds some less bloody and ripped clothes for her to wear, ending up with a pair of her maternity jeans she hasn’t thrown away yet and a big baggy jumper. He doesn’t bother with underwear, she’s going to have to strip when they get to the hospital anyway. Louis waits for five minutes, until he gets a knock on the door and jumps violently, cradling his mother’s limp head against his shoulder.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Lou,” Zayn whispers quietly and Louis sags in relief. He croaks out an okay, and Zayn tentatively opens the door.

“Don’t say anything,” Louis say immediately when he catches the look on Zayn’s face, “Just help me get her to my car without him seeing, yeah?”

Zayn nods and grabs her arm, putting it around his neck. Louis does the same on the other side and the three of them stumble down the stairs to the front door, about to leave, when Louis hears a gruff voice that makes him halt. “Where the _fuck_ do you think you’re going?”

“Take her to the car,” Louis whispers to Zayn, pushing his car keys into his hand.

“But–”

“I’ll be fine, Zayn,” he says, “Do you think the kids could stay round yours tonight?”

Zayn nods, “I’ll get them once you’ve dealt with that piece of shit.”

Louis smiles and lets Zayn carry his mother bridal style to his car. The front door shuts and he still doesn’t have the confidence to face the little shit that actually managed to beat his mum unconscious, instead balls his hands up in little fists and grinds his teeth together.

“Well? I asked you a question, you little faggot,” he growls disgustingly, and Louis just completely loses it, spins round quickly and punched Ben right in the face. He stumbles backwards a little bit, cradling his cheek, but eventually gets over it and smirks wryly.

“That all you got?” He asks patronisingly, kneeing Louis swiftly in the balls. Louis groans quietly and presses a hand to his tender area, he can feel the throbbing underneath his hand, hotness in his dick where he just got nutted. An uppercut to his jaw sends Louis’ head spinning and he falls against the wall noisily, feeling all his teeth clang together from impact. He tastes blood and spits it out unceremoniously.

Louis wants to fight back so much, but he knows that if he tries, it’ll only get worse for him and maybe Ben will even hurt the girls (or Ernest) which can definitely _not_ happen. So instead he just takes it, takes every punch, kick, hit remembering to himself that it’s one less the girls or his mum are getting. Ben gets bored eventually, when Louis is gasping for breath, face bloody and gross, body bruised and aching, and retreats to the kitchen to get another beer, probably.

He stumbles up the stairs with little finesse and grabs Doris and Ernest’s baby carriers with the two inside, before going to Phoebe and Daisy’s shared room and hurrying them both out of bed.

“What happened to your face Boobear?” Daisy asks, touching a cut on his eyebrow.

“Not now, Dai, we’ve got to go, okay?” Louis whispers, packing a day bag for them both, “Take the twins and go out the back door, Zayn’s car is parked in the field out the back, okay? I want you to be very quiet and very good for the Malik’s tonight, do you promise, girls?”

“What about you?” Phoebe asks worriedly, nodding along with her sister nonetheless.

“I’ll be fine, babes, I promise, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He sends the four of them on their way, before rushing out the front, where Zayn is leaning against his car, his phone to his ear.

“Is it done?” He asks.

Louis shakes his head, “I sent the kids to your car out the back. Call me if anyone’s missing when you get there, okay? I’ll pick ‘em up tomorrow, I promise,”

Louis’ in his car now, his mother slumped in the passenger seat next to him, Zayn leaning against the window. He starts the ignition and smiles at Zayn gratefully, before backing out the drive. Louis glances over to his mother and sighs wistfully. When did this become his life?

***

“Look man, all I’m saying is that if you don’t want her to be screwing other guys, maybe you should just ask her out,” Zayn says to Tony. Louis smiles to himself, wonders when Zayn became such a love guru, given his past eleven relationships have ended pretty badly for both him and her, and noisily sets his tray down on the bench. “Oh, hey Louis,”

Louis smiles in response. “But she was okay with just fucking,”

“No, man, no, you just– T, look,” Zayn sighs and puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Birds are complicated, okay? No means yes and up means down, left means right and right means I don’t want pasta for dinner. So when she says she is okay with just fucking, what she really means is…”

“She wants me to buy her pizza?”

Zayn holds his head in his hands and outwardly cringes, questioning his existence entirely. “Why do I even bother?”

Louis raises an eyebrow and takes a bite out of his apple, chewing noisily. It’s different, taking the back seat in the friendship group, he gets to see how his team interact with each other without him taking charge and forcing them all to dance round the maypole. It’s nice to see they all actually like each other.

Since the incident with his mum, Louis has taken a step back from school life, to get his home life sorted out. He’s looking into buying a flat of his own where he and his sisters can live, until they’re old enough to live where they want. It’s difficult though, because even though Ben and his mum aren’t married, he obviously holds something over her which means she can’t chuck him. Well, apart from the fact that if he leaves, he’s taking the baby twins with him. Louis doesn’t even see how it’s fair that he’s allowed custody over them, what with everything he’s done. He’d dispute it in court if he had the time or money, or frankly, the balls to go through with it. But he doesn’t, so.

“How’s she doing?” Zayn asks quietly, making Louis jump. He didn’t even realise that Zayn and Andy had switched places on the table until he looks to his left and sees big brown worrisome eyes looking up at him.

“Alright,” he says with a shrug. “They’re thinking of moving her out of intensive care tomorrow,”

Zayn smiles sadly. “That’s great, Lou. Any idea when she’s going to wake up?”

“Soon, I think, or they wouldn’t be putting her in a ward,” Louis says hopefully, taking another bite of his apple, though he knows it’s unlikely. When Ben knocked her unconscious, he caused pressure on his mum’s brain, which meant that it’s pretty much fifty-fifty she’s going to wake up again. He also broke three of her ribs and she had to have seventeen stitches in total, mainly on her face.

“It’ll be okay, mate, I promise,” Zayn whispers, tucking an arm round Louis’ waist and pulling him into an awkward sideways hug. “You want help opening your yoghurt, sweetheart?”

Louis pokes his tongue out but throws the pot over anyway. Since he drove his mum to the hospital with a bleeding and bruised face, the nurses insisted they check him out as well (he told them they were mugged). Turns out, Ben actually fractured his wrist in three places, and now Louis has to wear this stupid cast for six weeks, meaning he pretty much can’t use his right hand for anything.

A throat clears and both the boy’s heads snap up, only to be met with Liam Payne. Zayn scowls, but Louis just smiles. “Liam,”

“Louis,” he says in return, “Malik,”

“Payne,” Zayn scowls, Louis kicks him in the shin.

“Can I help you, mate?” Louis asks sweetly, ignoring the way Zayn’s eyes bulge out of his head.

“Harry wants to meet up with you in the music block to talk about your project, whatever that means,” Liam mutters.

Louis clears his throat awkwardly, thankful none of his friends know the kid they’ve been bullying for the past five years actually has a name. “Okay, when?”

“Uhm, now?”

“Thanks, Liam, I’ll be there right away,” Liam shrugs and walks back to the track table, high fiving Stevie Jackells as he takes his seat next to him. “Well, duty calls,”

“Who the hell is Harry?” Zayn asks when Louis has gathered his shit together.

“Chemistry partner,” Louis says quickly. It’s not like it’s a lie, they actually are chemistry partners. “We have to prepare for a project on global warming,”

“Wait, so why are you meeting in the music blocks?” Tony asks suddenly, Louis literally wants to punch him in the face.

“Because he takes music,” he says through gritted teeth. Louis’ fingers clench the red plastic tray tightly as he wills himself to get under control.

Tony snorts, “What a faggot.”

 _Faggot, faggot, faggot, you little faggot, faggot, faggot, I asked you a question you little faggot._ Louis sees reed. He doesn’t even realise what he’s doing, before he’s slamming the tray down on the table with a loud smack and marching over to Tony. His half-finished orange juice falls over and spills into the spag bol Louis didn’t even get to try. That’s not going to be nice. Louis picks him up by his collar and presses him firmly against the wall, threatening blue eyes staring into Tony’s terrified ones.

“Say it again,” he sneers. Tony gulps loudly and Louis growls, pushing him further into the wall. “Go on, say it again, I dare you,”

He stays quiet. Louis snorts. “That’s what I thought, you little shit,”

Louis lets go of his collar and turns back to walk to the table and collect his tray, when a vindictive laugh stops him dead in his tracks. “Doesn’t defending the faggot make you just as bad? Do you love him? Is he your little faggot boyfriend?”

He growls and lunges for Tony again, ready to proper punch his lights out, and most likely bust up his other hand as well, but two strong arms stop him for even coming close to the scumbag. Louis elbows him in the gut, he doesn’t budge.

“Zayn let me go, god dammit!” He growls, squirming in his best friend’s grip.

“He’s not worth it, Lou, don’t rise to it,” Zayn mutters in his ear, wrapping his arms even tighter around his body as Louis continues to struggle.

“Get off me, Zayn, he fucking deserves it,” Louis says, “He deserves every damn broken rib, like the scum of the fucking earth he is,”

“I know he is, but now’s not the time or the place,” Zayn replies, Louis growls in response and he sighs, “You’ve stopped me from getting expelled so many times before, well now I’m doing the same. Leave it, it’s not worth your education.”

Louis sighs, defeated, and sags in Zayn’s grip. When tony sniggers and mutters something about him being weak, Louis growls and points a shaking finger at him. “I don’t want to see your face ever again, or I _will_ fuck you up, do you hear? Oh, and you’re off the team,”

“You don’t have the authority to do that,” Tony says, but he doesn’t believe his own words.

“We’ll see about that, scumbag,” Louis smirks, before shrugging Zayn off him and walking through the canteen to the exit. All heads turn towards him as he walks past, obviously having seen the majority of the almost fight, but he doesn’t pay any attention. Just holds his head up high and walks out with dignity.

When he finally gets to the music room, Harry’s head is resting on his hand as he left index finger plods along the keys slowly. He looks bored, probably tired of waiting for Louis, but also kind of cute. Louis shakes his head fondly and sits on the piano stall next to him.

“you made it,” Harry says breathlessly, eyes shining when he notices Louis sitting next to him.

Louis grins at his eagerness and nods, “Yeah, had to finish my lunch first though,”

“Yeah I get that,” He says, cracking his knuckles out, before handing Louis a copy of the sheet music, “So I thought we could start the mash up today, y’know just seeing who’s voice would fit which part best and– what happened to your hand?”

Louis panics, thinking something really bad has happened, but when he looks down and is met with the annoyingly itchy cast over his hand, he just sighs dismissively. “Go in a fight a few days ago,”

Harry’s eyes go wide, “Are you okay?”

“You should see the other guy,” Louis chuckles, cheeks tinting slightly pink when Harry laughs obnoxiously loud. It’s cute, though, and Louis doesn’t mind, obviously.

“Shall we start, then?” Harry asks once his giggles have subsided, resting his fingers on the keys in front of him. Louis nods and watches carefully as Harry’s fingers dance across the keys with practiced ease, a sweet melody filling the room. Quite beautiful, Louis thinks.

***

Harry fiddles with his phone nervously as he waits for Louis to show up. He got a text at around half eight from Louis, asking if they could meet up on the corner by the back entrance to Lidl in town, and of course, Harry had immediately agreed. He’s always up for seeing Louis outside of school, just as long as this isn’t some toss up and Louis isn’t going to show. Which, to be honest, is seeming pretty likely right now.

It’s been twenty minutes and Louis still hasn’t shown up. The clock on his phone shows 20:50, and Harry sighs, turning to walk away, when a small voice calls his name, “Harry, wait!”

It’s dark, and there is a hooded figure walking towards him with determination, and Harry doesn’t know what to do. He stumbles backwards a little, making for a quick getaway, until the stranger passes under a streetlight and Harry can faintly make out Louis’ familiar features in the orange glow. Harry grins, sighing a breath of relief, and waits until Louis is standing right in front of him before he speaks.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Harry says breathlessly. Louis smiles and ducks his head, and if he squints, Harry can just about make out the crinkles by his eyes.

“You seriously think I’d stand you up?” He asks, scandalised, and Harry smiles. It sounds like Louis is talking about a date, but Harry really doesn’t want to think about that, before he gets his hopes up. “Wanna go get some ice cream?”

Harry snorts, “In October? At nine pm?”

“Yep!” Louis grins, grabbing Harry’s hand and pulling him down the street, “C’mon,”

Harry giggles and follows Louis gleefully down the road to the TGI’s. Everyone knows they do the best ice cream. Harry’s hand feels hot where it’s linked with Louis’, and he can feel the boy’s own sweaty palm pressing against his own, which for some reason makes him feel even for joyful (Harry knows if it was anyone else, he would be grossed out, but maybe that makes it even worse). They get to the restaurant, giggling breathlessly and panting slightly from the jog over, and slide into a booth, where Harry takes off his coat and Louis slips his hood down.

He’s gorgeous, as always, fluffy brown fringe flopping forwards onto his face, cheeks tinted pink from the run, blue eyes glinting in the dim lighting, but Harry can’t help but notice the fresh looking shiner under his right eye. He frowns and reaches out with gentle fingers to brush over the healing cut and purple bruise which surrounds it, not missing the way Louis winces and shies from his touch. “What happened?”

“Got in a fight, didn’t I,” he says with a shrug, holding eye contact for a second. It’s then that Harry sees the drying tear tracks running down his cheeks, red rimmed eyes and lips that look bitten raw. Harry didn’t believe that lie last week, when Louis showed up to rehearsal with his arm in plaster, and he certainly doesn’t believe it now. Not that Louis needs to know that, however.

“Do you wanna get that checked out?” Harry asks, reaching into his pocket for his phone so he can call his mum – well maybe not his mum, Gemma would probably ask less questions – to take them to A&E.

“No!” Louis shouts, grabbing Harry’s wrist until he drops the phone back in his pocket. People in surrounding tables look at them to see what the commotion is, but neither boy pays them any attention – although Harry is very thankful that this time when Louis speaks, he says it much quieter than before. “No, I– I’ll be fine,”

Harry narrows his eyes, just the defeatist way Louis says that means he knows it isn’t the case. But he obviously didn’t ask to meet him at 9pm on a school night to have a fight, he wants a distraction. Harry can do distraction. “What ice cream are you gonna get?”

Louis rolls his eyes, but nonetheless complies, picking up the dessert menu and sifting through the sundae choices. Eventually, they decide on sharing the Cadbury’s explosion, and Harry ignores the knowing look the waitress gives them.

***

“C’mon please?” Harry begs, jutting out his bottom lip.

“No!”

“Please?” he whines again.

“Harry, we’ve got to focus,” Louis says, resting his fingers on the piano keys, even though he has no idea how to play it, “The competition is next week,”

“So? C’mon, the period’s nearly over anyway, lighten up a bit Lou,” yeah, they’re so close they use nicknames now. Harry turns in the chair to the other boy and gives him his best puppy dog eyes, the ones even Niall can’t resist. After a few seconds, Louis sighs and Harry grins, desperately trying to hide his smug face.

“Just one, though,” Louis warns firmly.

“One, got it,” Harry says, still grinning. He frowns, trying to think of the best one, seeing as he only has one shot to make this work in his favour. “Ooh got one! It’s festive as well, you ready?”

Louis frowns, “Festive?”

“Yeah, y’know, Halloween-y,”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Mate, Halloween isn’t for another three weeks,”

“Louis,” Harry whines childishly, pouting again. Why does he have to ruin all his fun?

“Okay okay, fine, let me hear it then,” Louis says with a sigh, feigning annoyance, but Harry can tell he loves it.

“What’s a ghost’s favourite fruit?” He asks with a grin on his face, the joke is just too funny, Harry isn’t sure he’s going to be able to contain himself. Louis bites his lip and scrunches up his face in the most adorable way while he thinks of an answer, Harry just wants to eat him up so badly.

Eventually, Louis sighs. “I don’t know, Harry, what is a ghost’s favourite fruit?”

“Booberries!” he says excitedly, before bursting into laughter. Such a good joke, one of his best Halloween jokes actually (though maybe he stole it from Gemma’s Halloween crackers, Harry can’t remember) which is why he can’t understand why Louis isn’t laughing, just smiling at him weirdly, sort of creepily. Harry stops laughing. “What’s wrong?”

It seems to snap Louis out of his weird daze, because his eyes go hard immediately. “Oh nothing, nothing. That was a good joke, but now we have to focus and get on with this song, okay?”

“Alright, alright, moody,” Harry says, giggling when Louis punches him in the arm, before he starts playing the familiar chords. “ _I heard that you’re settled down, that you found a girl and you’re_ –”

Harry hates, absolutely despises even, not finishing a verse of  song once he’s started it, it’s sort of a pet peeve of his, but it’s not exactly like he can protest all that much with a pair of warm lips firmly pushed against his. He squeals in surprise at the impact and is sort of… frozen in place. Surely this is a dream, it can’t actually be happening, Louis Tomlinson can’t actually be _kissing_ him right now. But, he opens his eyes and sure enough, there’s Louis’ face, attached to his. There’s a light blush on his cheeks and his eyelashes are fanned across his cheekbones in the most stunning way, Harry really can’t believe this is _real._

Louis starts to pull away, probably thinks Harry isn’t going to kiss back, but he absolutely can’t have that, and forcefully reattaches their lips. It changes then, the whole dynamics of the situation completely alters – the once sweet, careful kiss, turns desperate and hungry, the air around them becomes clouded and heavy with lust. Louis moves forwards and winds his hand in Harry’s hair, coaxing a low moan out of the curly boy as he tugs on certain ringlets, sending jolts of pleasure through him. In turn, Harry slips his arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him closer, sighing happily when Louis takes the initiative to climb into his lap.

Needless to say, Harry is a bit shocked when Louis wiggles his tongue into his mouth. He moans when the boy flicks it around and greedily recuperates the action as best he can. It’s been a while since Harry has properly snogged someone and he can’t remember a time when it was ever this good. Sooner rather than later, Harry is squeezing Louis’ gorgeous bum, the older boy grinding on him slowly, and making his semi grow even harder. Harry can feel the outline of Louis’ dick against his own, and the fact that this is turning Louis on as well, turns Harry on even more.

There’s so much spit and warmth collected in and around their joined mouth, Harry can’t help but pull away, kiss down Louis’ jaw, suck a love bite just under his ear and another at the top of his collarbone. Louis moans loudly – the kind of moan that indicates when someone’s about to spill their load – and tugs on Harry’s hair, which spurs him on even more. He’s tugging Harry back up then, pulling their mouths back together in a clash of teeth and tongues and spit and it’s messy and uncoordinated, but it’s them, and that’s all that really matters.

Then the bell rings.

Louis pulls away with a gasp and Harry has to bite back the groan threatening to spill over at how fucked out he looks. His eyes are almost completely black with lust, cheeks tinted, lips swollen and red, breath coming out in short little pants. He’s gorgeous, more gorgeous than he’s ever been before, and if Harry knew all he had to do to get him like this was kiss him, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

Harry doesn’t move, uncertain of what Louis’ reaction will be – as far as everyone is concerned, Louis doesn’t kiss boys on a regular occasion – just lets his hands rest on Louis’ bum, lets his teeth bite into his bottom lip as he waits for Louis to do something. But Louis doesn’t do anything, just stares at Harry, stares at his probably even more swollen lips with a look of want, but also disgust creeping on to his features, and that’s what scares Harry the most. The disgust.

He knows this has been the best snog of his life, he knows it’s going to make his crush on Louis ten times worse now he knows what he’s missing, and he knows he really want to kiss Louis again. Realistically, he knows all of this, and he knows that’s why it’ll hurt so much more when Louis punches him for being a fag or tells him it was a prank or laughs about it with his mates like it meant nothing. Because Harry knows Louis, and he knows what Louis will do.

A throat clearing snaps the two of them out of their stare off, and Louis looks past Harry’s head to see who is standing at the door. Harry can’t bring himself to look, can’t bring himself to look away from Louis for even one second. Whoever it is must scare him, because he scrambles of Harry quicker than Usain Bolt and grabs his bag from under the piano.

Harry speaks, for the first time since the kiss, but his voice isn’t strong like he expected to be. It’s weak and broken and sad, because he knew this was coming, “Louis–”

“I’m sorry, Harry, I have to go,” Louis mumbles. He’s stumbling around, tripping over his feet and his words, and it’s painful to watch, because Louis is normally so composed and not at all phased by anyone, but the Louis in front of him is awkwardly staring at the ground as he adjusts his boner in his jeans and half runs out of the room.

Harry’s eyes follow him wordlessly, watches Louis leave without so much as a blink. He doesn’t know what to do, so he cries. He sobs hard and ugly, feeling his whole world crash around him, even though he knew this was going to happen, he knew how Louis would react. But somehow, the reaction he got was far worse. It was as if Louis was ashamed to be caught kissing Harry, ashamed to like it, ashamed to be associated with the little queer music nerd.

An arm wraps around Harry’s shoulder and shushes him softly, Harry has literally never been so grateful for Niall’s presence in his entire life. “It’s okay mate, he’s just some stuck up jerk, yeah? There’s other guys out there, it’s not the end of the world,”

Except the problem is, it is _entirely_ the end of Harry’s world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: do you want a sex scene? or shall I keep it strictly fluff? your choice guys..
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoyed it! happy october :) (im working on a halloween themed oneshot, don't hold it against me if it's not up in time tho)
> 
> please leave kudos//comment//put down the pitchforks//love me
> 
> ttfn!!xox


	2. Our Eyes Are Never Closing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry for being such a poo and not updating in over half a year!!! I'm here now, and yes there is one more chapter, but I've nearly finished writing it so it shouldn't be too long.
> 
> Hope you can forgive me and enjoy this??
> 
> (TW for last chapter still apply) love y'all xo

Harry watches from afar as Louis laughs with his friends. His blue eyes crinkle and he has to hold his cute little tummy – the one Harry always has to restrain himself from nuzzling in to – from laughing so hard at whatever shitty joke has been made. Harry never thought Zayn Malik was that funny, to be quite honest.

He’s not annoyed at Louis, not anymore, Harry sort of understands that Louis is popular and in the closet, and popularity apparently means more to him than Harry ever did. So what right does he have to be mad? When Louis clearly never cared about him or his stupid feelings, only about his reputation and his stupid homophobic friends and his stupid gay questioning, or whatever the fuck it was when Louis sucked the life out of him.

And there’s definitely something going on behind the scenes, besides the obvious gay thing (which is another thing, Harry literally doesn’t get how no one has ever realised Louis was gay before now, it’s not exactly like he tries to hide it) so maybe Louis’ got his hands full with whatever that is and didn’t know how to say it. Harry understands. Louis isn’t his main priority at the moment either.

It’s not like he doesn’t miss Louis, though, he misses him like crazy. They always seemed to have a good time, once they got over the whole ‘my friends hate you because you’re gay so I should hate you too’ thing. Louis is a nice guy, and probably the hottest guy Harry has ever seen. It seems as though Louis somehow got his friends to back off for a while, because Harry hasn’t been bothered since the kiss. No matter what Niall says about him, Harry will always believe Louis is a good person.

“Harry!” Niall screams in Harry’s face, snapping him out of a daze he didn’t even know he was in.

“What? Jesus Niall, you don’t need to shout, I’m right here.” Harry grumbles, staring down at the salad that Niall had forced him to buy. Just looking at it made his stomach churn; so many calories in that dressing, in the cheese, in the breaded chicken. Harry can pretty much feel himself getting fatter just looking at it.

Niall rolls his eyes and ignores Harry’s snappy mood, like a true friend would. “Amy was just telling me about the bonfire this weekend. You’re going.”

“What? No, I’m not.” He mumbles. The bonfire will be at Zayn Malik’s field, as it is every year. Zayn Malik, who is friends with a certain someone Harry definitely isn’t annoyed with, but doesn’t particularly want to speak to either. Harry’s not going.

“Harry c’mon. You missed Halloween because of your moping, I won’t let him ruin bonfire night for you as well.” Niall says in the least subtle way possible. Honestly, what are friends for?

“No, Ni. I don’t want to be anywhere near him.” Harry grumbles. Louis laughs his beautiful laugh once again and he winces, heart breaking just a little bit more.

Niall sighs and takes a long slurp of his (diet) coke. “You can’t avoid him forever. Why don’t you just be the bigger person? Show him you’ve moved on and you don’t even care about his stupid life.”

“I _have_ moved on,” Harry lies. Like, that’s the complete and utter opposite of the truth, “I’ve moved on so much I don’t want to see his stupid face ever again.”

“Alright mate, if you want to tell yourself that, then fine. Don’t think I don’t see you though; all your moping about, sulking. You barely even play the piano anymore!” He says. Harry sighs, Niall is impossible. This is why they make such good friends, Niall always calls Harry out on his shitty lies (which he tells quite frequently).

“Only because I don’t want to,” Harry mumbles, gulping loudly. That’s another lie, it’s just that the only time he ever wants to play piano, he wants to play Louis’ song, their song, the one they wrote together, and that just makes him want to cry.

Niall sighs. “Just. Pretty please come? Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to avoid him and actually have fun.”

“And besides, he might not even be there,”

Harry’s eyes widen comically and he looks to Niall’s left to find the owner of the screechy high voice, to be met with a brunette girl, sticky lips smiling wide in encouragement. “Sorry, who are you?” Harry asks. It’s rude, he knows, but he doesn’t really care right now.

The girl frowns, “I’m Amy, we have Photography together.”

Harry blinks, “Well, we don’t have Photography now, so…”

“Harry–” Niall splutters, going to reprimand him for being rude (Harry couldn’t care less) but Amy puts a manicured hand on his arm and smiles sweetly.

“Niall, it’s okay,” she says softly, before turning to Harry with a smile, “Niall’s helping me on my project for Public Services, and he invited me to lunch with him.”

Niall blushes and smiles at Amy, a coy sort of smile, the one he normally reserves for Gemma. Oh. Ew. Harry wonders if they’re holding hands under the table. He points between them, “So you two are going out? Why didn’t you just come right out and say that instead of beating around the bush?”

“No, no– we’re not– we’re not going out,” Niall splutters again, going even redder in the face than he previously was.

“Right,” Harry mutters, rolling his eyes. Straight couples.

“Anyway, stop changing the subject! You’re going to the bonfire and that’s final!” Niall says sternly, and nods towards Harry’s salad before he can even think about protesting. “Are you done with that?”

Harry looks down at the bowl. He’s barely eaten two leaves of lettuce and hasn’t even touched anything else. Even so, he slides the bowl over to the hungry boy with a grumble, it’s only going to go to waste any way. “Help yourself, mate, I’m going to the music room.”

Harry gets up and slings his bag over his shoulder, snorting when Niall yells, _“You’re definitely going, Harry!”_ and walks away from the table. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets – or, as deep as his skin tight jeans will allow – and his head is hung low, a trick he’s learnt to prevent getting smoothies thrown in his face, so low that he doesn’t notice he’s walking straight into someone with a tray, until there’s a pot of pasta meatballs all down his shirt. It’s his favourite shirt as well, the navy blue one with bright yellow flowers on it.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, you little faggot!” A gruff voice says. Harry’s head snaps up – he knows that voice, he’s spent pretty much his entire life trying to avoid it. Zayn Malik is glaring at him with full force, and Harry is honestly glad that looks can’t kill, or he’d probably dead a thousand times over buy now.

In that moment, what surprises him is Louis turning around with a sigh, reaching out to grab Zayn’s wrist and say, “Zayn, leave off, will you? I’m sure it wasn’t their f– oh.”

Louis clocks him, his face sets into a neutral, hard expression, his fingers clutching Zayn’s wrist even tighter. Harry wants to disappear. When he looks into Louis’ eyes, all Harry can see is pain and confusion, as though Louis was the one who was snogged within an inch of his life and left by Harry, not the other way round. Which, how unfair is that? His eyes flicker to Harry’s lips, if only briefly – but Harry still catches it. He can’t help the tiny smirk that appears on his lips, no matter how much Louis pretends it didn’t happen, he’s still affected by the kiss, and that makes Harry feel so accomplished.

“Well,” Louis says harshly, his cheeks slightly red at being caught, “What the fuck are you still doing here, faggot? Get lost.”

“Tosser,” Harry mumbles under his breath, before adjusting his bag on his shoulder and pushing past the two dickheads to leave the canteen. He’s sure Louis heard his exclamation, though, and that makes Harry feel even better about himself. If Louis’ allowed to be a wanker, well then so is Harry.

***

Harry shifts uncomfortably in the brown leather chair and watches the clock hanging on the other side of the room. The seconds drag on incredibly slowly as he waits for six o’clock, when he can finally get out of this stupid room for another two weeks. Only five more minutes. He can probably make it without saying a word, he’s got this far at least.

“How’ve you been doing, Harry? And don’t just shrug your shoulders at me again, these sessions are supposed to help you, but I can’t help you unless you let me,” Dr. Graham says and Harry sighs dramatically. Maybe he can’t make it without saying a word.

“Fine.” He says blankly. If there’s nothing to complain about, maybe he can leave this godforsaken office faster. Honestly, it’s like he spends half his life in these four damp walls.

Dr. Graham looks up over his glasses, an eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? It going alright with that… boy, then?”

Harry noticeably winces.

“Ah,” The doctor says, a small smirk on his face as he writes down on his notepad. Harry is thoroughly offended – it’s almost as if the doctor gets a thrill out of seeing him upset. Well, maybe he does, the more Harry is upset, the more money goes into his gold lined pockets. “Want to tell me a little more about it?”

Harry shrugs again, he doesn’t particularly want to talk about it, but four more minutes and then he’s out of here for another two weeks. “I was wrong, he didn’t fancy me.”

“And how does that make you feel?” He asks. Harry just rolls his eyes.

“Sad,” He says, biting his lip. His face is starting to hot up, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes after thinking about Louis again. Harry can almost feel the hot pressure of Louis’ lips on his, Louis’ hands in his hair, Louis’ bum on his lap. He frowns at the floor. “Angry.”

“You’re angry with this boy for not liking you back?”

“No,” he replies, not wanting to elaborate. But then Dr. Graham clears his throat and leans forward a little bit, pen still poised above the paper, urging him to continue, and even though he’s only got about three minutes left, Harry knows he won’t be able to leave until he’s given this stinky old man _something_ to write in his leather book. “I’m angry at myself for falling for him, for getting the wrong idea, for embarrassing myself in front of the most popular boy in school.”

Dr. Graham hums as he scribbles some short-hand, mixed in with some actual words, down on the pad, before resting the pen in the spine of the book and leaning back again. He checks his watch. “You’ve got ninety-four seconds until you can leave. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me? Or should I put it down that you’re still being uncooperative?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, alright?” Harry huffs, focusing his vision on Dr. Graham’s brown shoes. “I can’t tell you what happened, or how I feel about it, because to tell you the truth, I’m not sure if I even know myself. All I know is that Louis Tomlinson is a fucking arsehole, who stole my first kiss and then buggered off without so much as a goodbye. Is that enough co-operation for you, _doctor_?”

“You shared a kiss?” He asks. Dr. Graham isn’t even writing it down anymore, just listening. It’s almost as if he truly cares.

“Yeah.”

“I see,” Dr. Graham taps his lip and hums softly, almost as if he’s thinking of something to say. Harry doesn’t mind, it’s wasting the seconds. Fourty-nine seconds left. “Alright. So you kissed Louis, and then–”

“Uh, no. He kissed me, thank you very much.” He snaps, folding his arms and frowning. Yes, Harry is sulking, sue him. Everyone thinks that just because he’s the one who’s out, he must’ve initiated the kiss. Niall thought that, and so did Gemma. Even his cousin Geoff thought that when Harry spilled his guts out over Facebook messenger.

“Sorry, my mistake. Louis kissed you, and then ran away, yes?” Dr. Graham asks, Harry nods with a huff. “Have you talked to him? He might think he’s crossed some sort of boundary you can never go back on. Could be giving you distance to think about things. There’s so many reasons why he would’ve run away, Harry, and I assure you that not fancying you is not one of those reasons.”

Harry frowns. No, that can’t be right. If Louis wanted to give him space, he would’ve said so, and then Harry would’ve said _no thanks_ and they would’ve snogged again. But that’s not what happened. Louis ran away and hasn’t said a kind word to him since, not even a discreet smile as they pass each other in the corridor (Harry misses his smile). It’s pretty obvious to Harry that Louis regrets the kiss, which is kind of unfair because Harry thought it was rather amazing, and now Louis is avoiding him to prevent any unnecessary heartbreak. It’s seriously backfired.

Harry opens his mouth to protest something to the doctor, but then the buzzer goes and he all but sighs in relief, out of the chair in a flash. “See you in a fortnight, doctor.”

He’s out the door before Dr. Graham can say a word, walking at a fast pace to the exit of the clinic. Harry doesn’t look at all the in-patients and out-patients lining the halls, waiting for their own appointment with whichever shrink they had been assigned. Elderly, middle aged, teens, even children, people of all ages are here, waiting to be told how much of a psycho they are. Suddenly, Harry can’t breathe. Once he’s in the fresh air, he takes a deep breath, leaning against the brick wall with a sigh. He absolutely hates it in there, the threat of being admitted to the adjoining hospital if he makes one slip up always in the back of his mind.

“It’s about bloody time you were out, Harry!” Harry’s head snaps up in shock. Niall fucking Horan is leaning against a silver Volvo, arms crossed, smirk on his face.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, frowning. How dare he be here, how dare he not trust Harry to go to the bonfire by himself, how dare he try and escort him. Harry wasn’t actually planning on going, that’s probably the problem. Now he has to.

“Bonfire at Malik’s, remember?” Niall grins, beckoning Harry towards him. He does so, with caution, until they’re practically toe-to-toe.

Harry’s still frowning, and he crosses his arms over his chest to keep warm in the chilly November air. “I told you I wasn’t going, Niall, and I meant it. I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

“Harry, c’mon,” Niall whines, stopping Harry when he tries to walk away with a cold hand squeezing his elbow. “I just want to hang out with you outside of school like we used to, y’know, before...”

“You can say his name, Ni, I don’t care.” _Lie_. Harry cares a whole lot.

Niall raises an eyebrow, as if to disagree (quite rightly so) but doesn’t comment on it. “Before Louis did the whole kiss and run thing.”

“Very eloquently put, congrats.” Harry says, hiding his hurt behind the sarcasm. He tries to ignore how that’s most definitely something he’s picked up from Louis. “See you later.”

“Stop being an idiot and get in the car.” Niall says sternly, his fingers tightening around Harry’s elbow. That’s why he gives up in the end, to please Niall. It has nothing to do with the fact that he secretly wants to see the look on Louis’ face when he turns up. Not at all.

***

“Oi, Lou!” Louis whips around quickly at the sound of his stressed out mate, almost falling over in the mud, but just managing to steel himself at the last minute. “You haven’t seen the caterers, have you? They were supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”

Louis shrugs. “Sorry mate.”

“Honestly, can’t get the staff these days.” Zayn sighs under his breath, before pressing the call button on his phone and pressing it to his ear. Zayn is incredibly stressed out; the party starts in fifteen minutes, a few people have already arrived, the candy floss machine isn’t working, the fireworks may be unsafe to let off due to neighbouring farmers, and the caterers are apparently nowhere to be found. It’s a bit of a disaster.

But they can’t call it off, it’s a tradition, every year Zayn has a wild party for Easter, Halloween, and Bonfire night, and last year he also threw a wicked prom after party, which he’ll probably have to recreate in the summer. Everyone comes to Zayn’s parties, they’re the absolute best, but they always start out hectic, just as this one.

Which is why Louis isn’t that bothered. In fact, he can’t wait for more people to arrive so he can get drunk and not be the only one drinking. It’s probably fair to say that Louis has been drinking non-stop for a month. Since his mum got put in a coma, and the thing with Harry– no. Louis refuses to think about him. Refuses to pine over him, and want him, and need his kisses, on the grounds that Harry is a _he_. Harry is a _gay_ -he, which means Louis is probably also a gay-he, considering he kissed him first. Louis laughs internally; of course he’s not gay. He was just seeking comfort because of everything that happened, and Harry was just sort of... there. Louis is not gay. He’s not.

When more people arrive at the party, and the music starts, and the drinks get poured, Louis finds himself grinding on one very pretty redhead with very high heels and very big boobs. If this party was indoors, Louis would’ve taken her to bed. But it’s not, so he settles for the barn behind the DJ’s mix desk, and drags her along. He just wants to get pissed and have sex and not think about Harry sucking his cock with flushed cheeks and gorgeous red lips. Well, damn.

They’re kissing, he and this girl, but it’s mediocre at best. She’s too delicate and dainty, her lips are too sticky with lip gloss, the height difference is too large for it to be comfortable on either of their necks. Louis takes the initiative and grabs her waist, pulling them both down on a bale of hay. There are tongues in mouths, and hands roaming bodies in places that should be very arousing, but for some reason isn’t. Louis should be aroused when she rocks into his crotch, moaning at the pressure it gives her. He should be aroused when she takes his hands and pushes them under her skirt and underwear, groping her bare arse. He should be aroused when she starts unbuttoning his jeans, teasing the waistband of his boxers. He should be aroused by her, but he isn’t.

“Wanna suck you off, baby.” She moans, her hand moving dangerously close to his not-even-half-interested penis.

Louis closes his eyes and gripes her arse again, definitely not pretending it’s Harry’s arse, no, because that would be _gay,_ and Louis has already established that he’s not gay. As her hand traces the outline of his cock, it starts to perk up in interest, which was bound to happen eventually, he’s probably just over tired or something. She starts kissing down his neck, probably leaving sticky marks all over his skin, but it doesn’t bother him, because Louis is imagining a completely different pair of lips, soft and full and pink and attached to Harry Styles’ face.

“God, H, that feels so good,” he moans when she hits a certain spot on the side of his neck. Louis’ eyes snap wide open when he realises what he’s said. He didn’t mean to, it just slipped out. In all fairness to him, Harry was the last person he kissed, so. It makes sense.

The girl obviously doesn’t see it that way, because she huffs and climbs off him. “My name’s Julie, you dick!”

Louis doesn’t try to stop her leaving. He just lays on the hay bale for what seems like forever, thinking things over in his brain (which, by the way, he should probably stop doing). The ringing of his phone is what startles him out of his thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mr Tomlinson?” It’s an old woman on the other line, but Louis simply doesn’t have the time for pleasantries right now, so just grunts in agreement. “I’m Grace, a receptionist at the ICU from the Royal Infirmary. I’m calling regarding your mother.”

Louis sits up straight. “What about her?”

“She fell even further into a coma this evening, Mr Tomlinson.” She says, voice cold and hard. Louis holds in a breath. “We’re very sorry. The doctors have asked me to apologise on their behalf for getting your hopes up about her waking up soon.”

“So, wait. Are you telling me that my mum isn’t going to wake up?”

“Not any time in the near future, I’m afraid to say.” She replies. Louis loses it.

“What does that even _mean_?” He shouts. “Not this week? This month? She’s got to be awake for Christmas, that’s just a must.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Tomlinson, but there’s just no way to tell.” She sighs down the phone. Louis doesn’t think she sounds very sorry. “The doctor has suggested you come in to discuss further options on Monday.”

“This is bullshit,” he mumbles under his breath. “You know what? This is fucking bullshit. I don’t need this right now.”

Louis hangs up the phone and throws it on another bale of hay, cradling his head in his hands. This is just so fucked up, everything is so fucked up. This isn’t how his second attempt at year twelve was supposed to go, he was supposed to focus on his work and actually pass this time. Not get beaten up by his step dad, visit his mum in her coma, and pine over someone he can’t have. Whoa– back track. Louis isn’t pining, that’s not what this is. He doesn’t even fancy Harry, he doesn’t even _like_ Harry, it was all for comfort purposes.

A knock on the wooden door of the barn startles Louis out of his thoughts and he brings his head out of his arms, to be met with a gleaming Harry Styles. What’s that phrase, speak of the devil and he shall appear? Harry bites his lip. “Uhm, hi.” He says slowly. “Can I…?”

Louis holds his hands up in mock surrender, watching as Harry enters the barn and sits on a bale of hay opposite him. “So,”

“So.” Louis repeats, his voice grating through the air.

“I guess we, um. Need to talk, yeah?” he says quietly, chewing on his lip. Louis looks down at his knees and nods tightly, getting the impression that Harry wasn’t asking. “So, um, yeah. I, well. I kind of want to know– and you don’t have to tell me, but, I’d like it if you did. That, um, when you kissed me, in the music room. Why?”

Louis looks up in shock. Why? Why did he kiss Harry? Louis doesn’t know himself. “I… don’t know.”

“Okay,” Harry sucks in a breath. “Why did you run away?”

“Because I kissed you.” He answers immediately, which, whoa, where did that come from?

“Was it really that bad?”

“No, no! It was great, um, it was nice.” Louis only catches on to Harry’s light teasing a second too late. He’s starting to realise he’s maybe a little bit too drunk to have this conversation. “And besides, I had to get to football practice. _Some_ of us actually do extra-curricular.”

Harry pouts and pushes his foot into Louis’ calf, as a sort of half-arsed kick. “Hey, I do extra-curricular!”

“It doesn’t count if it’s part of your A Levels.” Louis huffs, kicking back. Harry laughs and it makes Louis smile. It probably shouldn’t. “Which, by the way, how did you do in the competition? It was last week, wasn’t it?”

“I, uh, won, actually.” He says, ducking his head in embarrassment. Louis thinks he looks adorable.

“That’s great, Harry.”

“Well, I mean, I technically came second, but the top three went through to the national competition, so.” Harry continues, picking some hay out of the bale he’s sitting on. “Probably would’ve come first if my original partner hadn’t have left me in the lurch like he did, though.”

Louis laughs, throwing a lump of straw at Harry. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.” He nods, smiling brightly, “I don’t know if you heard, but he’s a bit of a douche. Kiss and ran me two weeks before the competition, how awful is that?”

“Absolutely abysmal.” Louis smiles, glancing over at Harry when he laughs loudly. He doesn’t know when he moved, but all of a sudden, he and Harry are sitting on the same bale of hay, and now that he’s closer, Louis can see the dark circles under his eyes. Harry somehow still manages to look adorable. Louis kind of wants to kiss him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Harry grins, snapping Louis out of his gaze. He didn’t even know that he was staring, but, well, oops.

“What, no, I’m not.” He says quickly, looking away. Louis clears his throat before speaking again. “Hey, so listen, I’m sorry. Sorry that I made everything so weird and awkward between us. I think you’re great, Harry, and to be honest I’ve kinda missed hanging out with you these past few weeks. So what do you think, can we go back to being friends again?”

“I’d love that!” Harry grins wide and wraps his arms around Louis’ middle. Now that he’s closer, Louis can smell the alcohol on his breath, and figures he’s probably not the only one who’s had too much to drink tonight.

They pull away and Harry starts talking about something or other, Louis couldn’t tell you what it was for the life of him, because he’s too busy focusing on Harry’s lips. The way they form around words, all flushed pink from the alcohol and the cold weather. The way they’re just so plump and soft (Louis knows from experience) and kissable. Louis’ eyes flicker to Harry’s eyes for a moment, to catch them sparkle even in the dim lit barn, so green and bright, and beautiful. Louis honestly doesn’t understand why this boy is single. More importantly, Louis doesn’t understand why this boy isn’t his boyfriend.

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Louis is leaning forward and pressing a short, open mouthed kiss to Harry’s lips. They’re warm and soft, and they taste slightly like tequila, but mainly like Harry, and that’s good enough for Louis. Harry pulls away with a nervous laugh.

“Louis, what are you doing?” He asks. His eyes are even wider, and his cheeks are as pink as his lips. _Louis_ did that, and he feels so proud. “I thought we were going to be friends.”

Louis pouts and presses another kiss to Harry’s chin. “Can’t we be friends who also kiss each other?”

Harry doesn’t even think about it for a second, just grabs Louis’ scarf and uses it to pull their bodies together again. That’s how they spend the entire evening, attached at the lips inside the barn, then attached at the hips in the field with everyone else, alcohol burning through their veins and candy floss coating their lips. The most amazing first date Louis has ever had.

***

When Harry gets in to school the Monday after the party, his head is still pounding. He may even still be a little drunk.

He stumbles down the corridor to film, the chatter of the people lining the halls not making his headache any easier, and the room spinning uncomfortably. Harry’s never been hung over before, but he definitely is now, and he hates it; especially since he seems to be the only one suffering, which is completely unfair. He takes a bit of a detour to the loos to wash his face and hopefully prevent himself from throwing up again. The toilets are gross and stink of piss (and yes, Harry does throw up) so after he’s washed his face, Harry gets out of there as quickly as possible.

The bell for lesson goes just as he pushes open the double doors to film, his classroom being halfway down the corridor. Harry rubs his eyes tiredly, trying to blink out the sleep, as he reaches for the handle of the door, only to have someone run into the back of him. It’s Louis.

“Oh, sorry, Lou,” Harry grins, a slight blush on his cheeks. He may have been incredibly drunk on Saturday night, but he still remembers everything; the barn, kissing Louis (a lot) dancing with Louis, drinking with Louis, just lots of Louis. It felt like they were a couple at a party, and it felt damn good.

“It’s Louis.” He grumbles, pushing past Harry and storming into the classroom.

Harry’s absolutely stunned. After what happened at the party, Harry sort of assumed that he and Louis were together at last, or at the very least extremely good friends. But this, this feels like a kick in the teeth. Absolutely no one that Louis is friends with calls him by his full name, and yet he has the audacity to correct Harry? When _he_ was the one who wanted to be ‘friends who kiss’ barely two days ago. It’s just…it’s disheartening. Harry plods into the classroom a few moments later, his head hung low, and for once, he’s incredibly glad he and Louis aren’t partners.

Liam doesn’t help much, nudging his arm every two seconds and asking if he and Louis are bum buddies, while Harry desperately tries to edit the cut they filmed last Friday without drawing too much attention to it. With the boxer bringing it up every time there’s a lull in conversation (“so you and Louis have been awfully close lately,” and “are you fucking him?” being Liam’s favourites) it’s not so easy to ignore.

Somehow, Harry makes it through the entirety of the lesson without killing himself, or Liam, or Louis for that matter, and sulks his way through break. Niall buys him a portion of chips with chilli sauce, and the grease soaks through the paper bag and on to his fingers as he clutches on to it for dear life, psyching himself up to eating them. He can’t bring himself to do it – they’re too greasy and full of fat, fat that Harry probably doesn’t need on his body – so he just stares at them instead and pretends to listen to whatever Niall is talking about.

“Alright, spit it out then.” Niall says suddenly. Harry snaps his head up, eyes wide, and clutches the bag of chips tighter.

“What?”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “Mate, I’ve known you since year seven. I know when there’s something bothering you, and I know when that something is a someone, or rather, a someone that you may have certain feelings for.”

“I literally have no idea what you just said.” Harry replies blankly.

“Just tell me what’s wrong. You obviously want to.” He says, finally taking pity on Harry and pulling the chips from his grasp. Niall eats at least six in one go, his fingers covered in grease, and his face covered in chilli sauce. It makes Harry gag. He’s right, though, Harry just wants to complain to someone about his boy problems without being psycho-analysed for them.

“I just don’t understand, Ni,” Harry sighs finally. “You saw us at the party, we were being friendly and happy, yeah? But now he won’t even talk to me. He was grumpy with me this morning and then he didn’t even look at me all lesson. I feel like I’ve done something wrong, but I don’t know what, y’know?”

Niall is silent for a moment. The bag of chips is still about half full, and yet Niall rests them on the table slowly, swallowing down the food in his mouth, before scowling slightly. “We’re still talking about Louis, yeah?”

Harry nods.

“He can’t do that to you mate, that’s not fair. He can’t just string you along like that.” Niall grumbles, getting up off the table and fiddling with the strap of his bag.

“Where are you going?” Harry asks, standing up as well.

Niall rests a hand on his shoulder and smiles softly. “You go to the cock, I’ll be there in a bit. There’s something I’ve got to do first.”

Then he’s off, leaving Harry standing in the middle of the canteen, surrounded by 11-18 year olds. The bell goes and everyone starts packing up to go to class, while Harry just stands there a while longer, thinking about what an amazing friend he has.

***

Louis loves sports. He’s good at it, and his friends do it, and he gets to do it six times a week, it’s like he’s living a dream. But right now, he really doesn’t feel like getting sweaty, kicking a football around in the cold. He sort of wants to hide under a duvet and never come out.

“Lou, what the hell are you doing?” Zayn asks, slapping his arse and making Louis jolt forward in shock. “Get changed, you know how McFarth hates when people are late.”

Louis turns around slowly, glancing down at the polo shirt in his hands and shrugs. “Not feelin’ it, mate.”

“Not feeling what? Football?” He asks, hands on his hips and a disbelieving expression on his face.

“Yeah, I guess. Not really. I don’t know.” Louis mumbles, shrugging again. He runs the fabric of the polo shirt through his fingers in an attempt to make his fidgeting habits a little less noticeable.

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “Well which is it?” Louis bites his lips. He’s not been feeling good since the party, not sick, more disgusted with himself. He can’t stand his own skin at the moment, and he really doesn’t want to do anything productive. Zayn’s face falls suddenly and he steps forward, lowering his voice. “Has something happened?”

Louis shrugs.

“Lou, tell me what’s happened. I can help.” Zayn says, more urgently now.

Louis snorts out a laugh and looks to the side. The changing rooms are clearing out now, lessons about to start, and Louis’ still in his skinny jeans and hoodie, Zayn only half dressed himself. “You can’t.”

“We don’t know that if you don’t tell me what’s happened.”

But the problem is, Louis can’t tell him what’s happened, because what’s happened is he probably wants to sleep with Harry Styles. He’s not even sure how or why, all he knows is that on Sunday he woke up from a wet dream about the boy, and had the best orgasm of his life just thinking about Harry’s mouth around his cock. He can’t tell Zayn that, though, because then it’ll be _“I can’t believe you’re gay”_ and _“we shared a bed”_ and similar levels of disgust. For the record, Louis is not gay, he’s probably just stressed out because of his home life, and it’s manifesting in a really weird way.

“I–”

Suddenly, Louis’ sleeve is grabbed and he’s pulled sideways. He has never been happier to see that weird blond kid who hangs around with Harry Styles than now. It seems, however, that the feeling is most definitely not mutual. “Louis Tomlinson, I need a word with you. Right now.”

Zayn steps up behind blondie, frowning down at him. “Oi, you can’t just grab him like that.”

“Can too.” Blondie replies, maintaining eye contact with Louis.

“Listen mate, I dunno what you want, but–”

“Firstly, Tomlinson, I am _not_ your mate,” He growls, hand still gripping Louis’ hoodie tightly. “And secondly, what I want is for you to stop playing with Harry! You either like him or you don’t, you can’t keep stringing him along like this, it’s not fair.”

Zayn makes eye contact with Louis and frowns. Louis shakes his head in a shrug, pretending that he’s got no clue what Blondie is on about. Zayn can’t find out about this, absolutely not.

“Uh…” He says slowly.

The blond boy looks over his shoulder at Zayn, before turning back to Louis and rolling his eyes. “I don’t give a shit about your stupid rep and your stupid friends, what I care about is Harry, and he’s going out of his absolute mind over you. I’ve never seen someone so up and down over someone as fickle and shallow as you, Louis Tomlinson. You’re an awful person. You care more about what your friends think of you, rather than the people who actually gives a shit about your happiness.”

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.” Louis says, feigning nonchalance. He’s making eye contact with Blondie, not daring to look at Zayn, and really hoping that this Irish kid can read the panic in his eyes and back the hell off.

“My name’s Niall,” He huffs, before pushing Louis back a bit, so his knees are bent on the bench behind him. “Harry really cares about you. Even if it’s a no, he’d rather you just talk to him than giving him the cold shoulder. Grow up and get the fuck over yourself.”

“Mate – Niall,” Louis says with a little chuckle. His eyes flicker to Zayn briefly, who’s got an unreadable, contemplative expression on his face. Louis gulps. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, here. I don’t even know anyone called Harry, alright?”

Niall lets go of his hoodie with a growl. “Whatever, just. He’s got the second round of his competition in two weeks. Go, he’d really appreciate it.”

Then he’s gone, door of the changing rooms clipping the backs of his heels on the way out. Louis breathes out deeply, faking a laugh for Zayn.

“What the bloody hell was that about?”

“Not a clue, mate,” he replies cautiously, straightening out his hoodie, “Absolutely no idea.”

***

Harry is on a mission.

He hasn’t seen Louis all day so far, but it’s rather important that he finds him. It’s ironic that for two weeks Harry’s been trying his best to avoid him, and yet every time he turns the corner Louis’ beautiful face has been right there, but as soon as he actually wants to find him, the boy vanishes into thin air. He’s in photography now, which is also where Louis should be, but as per usual, he’s late. Harry’s fidgeting, which is not something he usually does, shaking his anxiety out through his hands. What if he’s read the situation wrong? What if it was just a coincidence?

Harry is glad when they pick up the cameras and head into the woods behind the playing field. It gives him something to do, to take his mind off Louis for an hour or so. But he soon discovers it’s not quite going to be that simple when he sees Louis sitting by the base of a tree, cigarette between his fore and middle fingers. Though, something tells Harry it’s not a normal cigarette– rather a different kind of roll up entirely. Nonetheless, he swallows his fears and strides over, Louis only looking up at him when he casts a shadow over his face.

“Hey.” He says.

Louis smiles in return. “Hi Harry.”

“So, my competition was last night,” Harry says slowly, sitting down next to Louis and putting the camera on the floor. Louis’ lips twitch around the cigarette, an unmistakable smile as he takes another drag – it’s weed, Harry can smell it now – tapping out the ashes into an ashtray he seems to have brought with him.

“Really?”

“Yup.” He grins. “Someone turned up to support me, someone I wasn’t expecting.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, a smug smile on his face. “That was nice of them, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah it was. I really appreciated it.”

“Maybe you should tell ‘em that,” He replies, a playful glint in his eye. Harry knows he’s only teasing, but he’s more than willing to play along if it means Louis will finally talk to him again. Harry reaches over and gently tilts Louis’ chin so they’re eye to eye, pretending not to notice the bruise on his cheek or the scabbed split in his lip. Now is not the time, and it’s not his place.

Instead, he smiles and says, “Thank you, Louis, for supporting me.”

“It was absolutely my pleasure.” Louis replies, before completely stubbing out his joint and resting his head on the tree, a lazy smile on his lips. “You did really well. Bet your mum’s proud.”

“She is, yeah. Think she’s already booking a Travel Lodge in London for March.” Harry giggles, remembering how happy his mum had been last night when he got through to the national level. Everyone had been happy with him, Harry had felt so important and valued; it was the absolute best feeling in the world.

“Mums, eh.” He says with a sigh, “Complete nutters, the lot of them.”

There’s something dark in the way he says it, like his mum has done something crazy recently, but it hasn’t had a good outcome. Harry doesn’t comment on it again, as it’s not his place.

“The song,” Louis continues, “That’s the one we wrote, isn’t it?”

Harry nods and smiles, “Yeah. Don’t let me go.” At this point, he’s not sure whether he’s telling Louis the name of the song, or begging to stay with him (that’s a complete lie, he knows exactly which he’s doing).

It seems as though Louis does, too. “I promise.” Harry beams. “Friends?”

“I– how do I know you mean it?” Harry sighs. He wishes he could leave it, but every time he thinks it’s going well with Louis and they’re going to be friends, Louis snogs the life out of him and then runs off. It hurts, more than not being anything to Louis, that’s for sure. Harry’s determined to look after his feelings a little more. “Every other time you’ve said that, it hasn’t lasted longer than twenty-four hours. How am I supposed to think that this is going to be any different?”

“Harry, look, I’m sorry about last time, and the time before that. I’ve just got so much going on right now, and it’s stressing me out. There is nothing I want more than to be friends with you, and I don’t know why I keep screwing it up, but I’m trying really hard not to.” Louis says, his hand resting on Harry’s knee. The heat from his hand soaks through Harry’s jeans and makes his skin tingle, his heartbeat pick up. “I’ve learnt from past mistakes. This time I’m determined to make it work.”

“I– alright.” Harry smiles. “But no kissing this time, okay? And no running off with no explanation, neither.”

Louis laughs loudly, his eyes twinkling, and sticks out his right arm. “Deal.”

“Deal.” He repeats, shaking Louis’ newly cast-free hand. “Your cast is gone.”

“Yeah, got it off yesterday after school. Finally I can get back on the Rugby team.” Louis says. His shoulders are more relaxed, Harry notices, and he’s talking more freely. It’s a good sign – he and Louis are okay again, and to be honest, that’s really all Harry has ever wanted.

***

_Running late. Will be there in fifteen._

Louis gives the bus driver a fiver for a single to Harry’s street and, once he’s collected his change and ticket, makes his way to the back of the bus. He slides into an empty window seat above the back wheel of the bus, the vibrations soothing him just a little bit more. Louis is on his way to Harry’s so the two of them can go bowling in town. He’s been looking forward to it all week, it’s just a pity that the hospital called him in for an emergency meeting the same day.

His mum isn’t doing so well. They’re talking about turning her off if she doesn’t improve in the next few weeks, which Louis absolutely will not allow. He’s already lost his dad, he’s not about to lose his mum as well. But apparently, since he’s not an adult until the 24th, that’s not his call to make; it’s Ben’s. Louis is praying she hangs on until then.

The custody battle for his sisters is singing the same tune, to be honest. Louis isn’t an adult, so he can’t legally take custody of his own flesh and blood, which means, while he’s crashing at Zayn’s at the moment, his sisters have to stay with Ben. He drops by every day to see how they’re doing, and he’s promised himself that the first sign of a mark on any of them, he’s taking them all out of there, legal or not. Louis is just having a really rough day, and he’s hoping that hanging out with his little ball of sunshine will make him feel even just a teensy bit better.

 _Alright Lou see you then,_ Harry has replied, along with the prayer emoji, a fist bump, and a few others that don’t really make sense. Just like that, Louis is already feeling better, and he doesn’t even know why.

Traffic is light, and Louis makes it to Harry’s door in eleven minutes. A brunette woman opens the door, a confused look on her face. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, this is where Harry Styles lives, isn’t it? We’re going out today.” Louis says nervously, suddenly wondering if he’d read Harry’s address wrong.

“Ooh how lovely,” She says with a smile. “I’m Harry’s mum, Anne. Do come in, I’m sure he’ll be down in a minute.”

Louis falters. Harry’s mum looks lovely, kind and welcoming, not at all intimidating, but this is meeting the parents, and Louis isn’t ready for that yet. “I–”

“Come on, dear, it’s cold out there, you’re letting all the heat out.” Anne says, stepping aside to make room for Louis. He gulps and walks inside, noting immediately how homely Harry’s house is. There’s pictures of Harry and Gemma, all three of them as a family, some old, some new, which is something that has never been present in Louis’ own house.

He’s not standing in the hall more than twenty seconds, before Harry comes rushing down the stairs, one of his arms in a jumper, his cheeks flushed. Harry looks really cute, Louis notices. He smiles when he sees Louis by the door, and slips his trainers on quickly, pulling a coat and scarf from a hook. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Louis replies softly, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

“We’re going now mum, bye.” Harry says, before opening the door and pulling Louis out with him. “Sorry about that, hope she didn’t say anything too embarrassing.”

“She didn’t say anything at all, really.”

Harry hums and the two walk in silence to the bus stop, sitting down on the cold plastic bench. “I’ve got some last minute Christmas shopping to do,” Harry says finally, “I haven’t brought any money with me, but if you want we can go into town soon and do some shopping?”

“I’d love that.” Louis smiles, and the horrifying truth, is that he really, really would.

***

Harry has just finished his last session of the year, and honestly couldn’t be happier about it. Dr. Graham even mentioned something about him improving drastically since they first met last Easter. He’s still got a long way to go, mind, and he shouldn’t get his hopes up too much or relax and slip into his old habits, but Dr. Graham emphasised very clearly how great he’s doing, and how proud of himself he should be. It’s why Harry takes the exit through the hospital instead of out of the clinic’s entrance, intending to stop by the little shop at the entrance and buy himself a granola bar as a treat, see how much of it he can eat before he wants to throw up. He’s very glad he did, as well, when he spots Louis’ head in the crowd of people rushing through the automatic doors to get out of the cold.

“Louis!” He shouts, trying to catch the boy’s attention. A few of the people around him turn their heads, but Louis himself keeps walking and doesn’t look back. Harry pouts, there’s absolutely no way Louis didn’t hear him, so it’s obvious he’s purposefully ignoring him. That’s rude. “Lou!”

Harry makes his way over to where Louis is huddled in the main waiting area, desperately trying to move past the people waiting by the reception desk and clogging up the corridor.

“Louis!” Now that he’s closer, Harry can see the way his shoulders tense up when he calls his name again, and frowns at what that could possibly mean. When he’s standing right behind Louis, Harry taps him on the shoulder, a big smile on his face which only falters slightly when the smile Louis offers in return is small and forced. “Hey.”

“Harry. Hi.” Louis responds, his voice trembling slightly as his hands start to fiddle with the bottom of his fleece (how he’s not wearing a coat in this weather completely baffles Harry). He’s incredibly nervous, and it unsettles Harry a little bit, wondering if it’s something he’s done, or if it’s something to do with being in hospital.

“What are you doing here?” He finds himself asking.

“I–” He begins nervously, before cutting himself off with a challenging glare, narrowing his eyes at Harry. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Harry sighs. It still upsets him that Louis is so private and closed off. All Harry wants to do is be Louis’ friend and be there for him when he’s sad, but he can’t do that if Louis doesn’t trust him, which he quite clearly doesn’t. “I asked first.” It’s cautious, but deliberate, and Harry hates that he still has to be so cautious around Louis. They’ve been friends for three months now, on and off, it shouldn’t be like this. Harry huffs quietly when Louis doesn’t respond, narrowing his eyes at him. “Why won’t you tell me anything?”

As soon as he says it, he realises. It’s because Louis’ hurt, and he doesn’t want to upset him. He gets in a lot of fights, judging by the permanent bruises on his face and around his ribs, so it’s not a far stretch to assume that his last fight went a little too far and now he has internal bleeding, or something. Louis is far too young to die, and Harry is definitely not ready to give him up just yet.

“Are you hurt?” He asks in a panicky voice. He’s probably overreacting, but his natural anxious tendencies are not something he’s able to control just yet. They’re going to work on it more in the New Year, according to Dr. Graham, what with how much progress he’s made so far.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Louis says dismissively. Harry glances at him worriedly, his eyes grazing over Louis’ most recent bruises, and Louis grabs his hands softly, thumbs soothing over the back of his hands. “Harry, I’m fine. I promise.”

Harry nods, shoulders relaxing slightly, but still tense with confusion. “Then why are you here?”

“If you must know, I’m visiting my mum. Or trying to, at least.” He huffs, eyeing the crowded corridor with an annoyed expression. It makes Harry giggle quietly, before he realises the implication of Louis’ words. Louis’ mum being hurt is definitely no better than Louis himself being hurt.

“Is she– oh god, she’s not–”

Harry can feel himself getting anxious again, worried for Louis’ mum, a woman he’s never even met, and is so thankful when Louis mutters, “She works here.”

“She– what?”

Louis laughs a little bit, squeezing Harry’s hands in his. “She works here, Harry. I thought I’d be a good son and drop by, see how she’s doing.”

“That’s so nice of you.” He says with a smile, feeling his shoulders relax even more, now that he knows everyone is safe. No one is fatally injured, Louis is just being a little angel and visiting his mum at work. Harry definitely picked the right boy to fall in love with. “Can I come?”

“What? No.”

Harry frowns, maybe even pouts a little bit. “Why not? You met my mum, it’s only fair.”

“Yes, by accident.” Louis retorts, letting go of Harry’s hands and folding his arms across his chest. Harry feels cold without Louis touching him, but that’s not important, because Louis is on the defence, and that’s never a good place for him to be. “It’s a bit too soon for you to meet my mum, don’t you think?”

“No. I don’t, actually.” He says. Harry frowns and crosses his arms as well, mirroring Louis’ stance.

“Well you should!”

“Well I don’t!” They’re being childish, Harry wonders how long it’ll be before they start poking their tongues out at each other. “Are you ashamed that you’re friends with me? Is that it?”

Louis sighs, defeated. “No, of course not. It’s just not the right time, okay?”

“It never will be, Louis, that’s the problem.” Harry mutters, stomping past Louis and making for the entrance, forgoing his earlier plan of buying a granola bar. He’s completely allowed to be annoyed, Louis is always pulling away from him and it’s not fair. All he wants is for them to be happy friends who go shopping for Christmas presents together and share an ice cream sundae. But Louis’ always got one foot out the door, and it’s really disheartening.

“No, Harry, wait!” Louis calls. Harry stops and huffs before turning around again. “Fine, if it means that much to you, you can meet my mum. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Harry smiles and nods, trying to seem enthusiastic, while still attempting to downplay how excited he is to meet the infamous Jay Tomlinson. He knows this is a big deal for Louis – he’s not the type to dive head first into any sort of relationship, that much is clear – and Harry doesn’t want him to retract his offer if he thinks Harry doesn’t actually care that much. Harry really does care. He’s been dying to meet her for so long, she’s a huge part of Louis’ life, which means Harry automatically wants to know everything about her. He’s not obsessed, just a tall, skinny seventeen year old head over heels in love with a slightly shorter, slightly chunkier almost-nineteen year old, and therefore he’s completely justified. Obviously.

They walk in silence down the corridors to the ICU, Harry noticing how agitated and fidgety Louis is, but he doesn’t comment on it. For whatever reason, Louis is worried about Harry meeting his mum, and the best thing Harry can do is be there for him. The two of them stop outside the door to ward two, Louis turning to Harry, anxiety clear on his face.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to meet her today?” He asks. Harry only nods. Louis pushes open the door with a sigh, and Harry is met with one of the most awful sights he’s seen in his entire life. There are four women in here, hooked up to all sorts of machines, all with breathing tubes sticking out of their mouths, completely comatose. There aren’t any nurses in here, and Harry’s starting to get worried again as they walk past the beds, his palms sweating slightly in anticipation.

Louis sits down next to a bed at the far end of the room, the one closest to the window, and grabs the woman’s hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. That’s when it hits him. Louis lied about his mum working at the hospital, he lied about her being okay, probably to calm Harry down. He doesn’t know what to say, or do, just stands awkwardly at the foot of the woman’s bed, taking in the sight before him. It seems so much worse now that he knows exactly who this woman is, each IV tube and monitoring wire on her body physically hurting him.

“You– she’s–” he mutters, pointing between the two of them.

“Yeah.” Louis replies. His eyes are focused on his mum’s face, and there are tears in the corner of his eyes, a sad smile on his lips.

“I– I don’t understand.” Harry chokes out, sitting down next to Louis. He’s crying as well, which is stupid because this isn’t his mum, but he feels so sad for her; so sad for Louis.

Louis sniffs and licks his lips, before speaking softly. “She’s in a coma, Harry. Got beat up pretty bad a few months back.”

“By who?”

Louis doesn’t answer for a long while, to the point where Harry wonders if he’s even said it out loud, just stares at his mum’s seemingly lifeless body. The only sounds filling the room are the constant hum of the machines hooked up to the four comatose women around them, and Harry and Louis’ own small sniffles. Harry thinks a nurse enters at one point to check one of the other patient’s vitals, but he can’t be sure.

“You really want to know?” Louis asks quietly.

Harry blinks, then he nods. “Yes.”

Louis finally looks around to Harry, carefully dropping his mum’s hand to the bed, before turning to face him completely.

“You can’t tell anyone. Absolutely no one, understood?” He asks. Harry nods again, but he’s beginning to realise this is something deeper than his mum being beat up. No matter what Louis says next, Harry knows he’ll be here for him, and he knows he’ll trust him that little bit more with his willingness to share himself. “Ben. Mum’s boyfriend.”

It takes him only a second to understand the meaning behind Louis’ confession.

“Louis, that’s–” Harry cuts himself off with a sob, trying to muster up enough strength to talk about this. They _need_ to talk about this. “That’s abuse. You need to tell someone.”

“I can’t.” He says desperately, cutting Harry off when he tries to protest again. “Please, Harry, you’ve got to keep this a secret. I can’t tell anyone, or…”

He trails off, but the implication is still there, _or he’ll get seven bells knocked out of him, as well_. That’s when it hits Harry like a tonne of bricks. The broken arm, the bruised ribs and black eyes, the winces of pain when he sits down, or gets up, or walks, or breathes. Ben did this to him, Ben still is doing this to him, judging from the fresh bruise on Louis’ chin and the dried blood around his nose he’d failed to wipe away. It makes Harry incredibly sad and so overwhelmingly scared, both for Louis and his six younger siblings he’s always so fondly talking about.

“Your _sisters,_ Louis.”

Louis nods disappointingly, more tears collecting in his eyes. “I know, I’m trying. Fizz and Lots are safe, they’re with dad. But the younger ones, I can’t get them out. Lawyers cost too much, and he’s their legal guardian while mum’s like this. Best I can do is put them to bed and let him use me as a punch bag instead.”

“You’re going to get hurt.” He whispers, unable to bear the thought of Louis in his mum’s place. Harry takes Louis’ hands and gives them a comforting squeeze. “Heck, Lou, this guy could kill you.”

Louis sobs loudly, letting his head fall onto Harry’s chest, his hands gripping Harry’s coat tightly. Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and rests his head on Louis’ shoulder, letting him cry. “They’re so young, H,” He cries, “They don’t deserve this life.”

“Neither do you.” Harry whispers, though he’s not sure if Louis hears. Harry has to be strong, for Louis’ sake. He has to let Louis cry and break down, without freaking out too much, or asking too many questions. He has to be there for Louis, and that’s what he intends on doing. “We’re going to sort this out, Lou. Together. I promise.”

He really, really means it.

***

Later, they talk everything through properly and Harry finds out the important, yet terrifying, details. Louis tells him the whole story, how Ben had been perfectly lovely at first, only turning violent once, when he was completely drunk and smashed up the neighbour’s car with a Cricket bat. How everything had changed once Jay had given birth to the twins, and he’d batter her until she was completely blue all over, screaming in her face and threatening to hurt the kids. How the only reason Jay stayed with him is that he threatened to take the twins if she left.

Louis explains to him how he got involved with the beatings, one day coming home to see Ben about to hit her round the head with a rolling pin, and standing between them, insisting Ben hit him instead. So Ben hit him instead. One thing Louis makes sure of, and he swears on his life that if this ever changes then he’s calling the police and moving all of them to Andromeda, is that Ben never lays a finger on the girls or Ernst. Harry thinks he’s so extremely proud of Louis for that.

He tells Harry about the custody battle he doesn’t want to get in to, and the flat he’s thinking of buying, and the fact that his mum might never wake up again. Harry does the only thing he can and listens, squeezing Louis’ hands tightly in some pathetic form of comfort.

They talk about it all, until visiting hours are over and Harry’s crying again. He takes Louis and his siblings out for ice cream as an apology.

***

They’re all in the car, Louis, Harry, Niall, and Niall’s not-girlfriend, Amy, on their way to Liam’s house for the Christmas Party. Louis offered to drive, give Niall some time in the back with his bird, and he can feel the blond’s gaze burning through his back as he drives. Harry is in the passenger seat next to him, eyes fixed out the window, fingers twitching in his lap. He’s shitting it, poor thing, and if Louis didn’t need both hands to drive with, he’d definitely reach over and grab Harry’s hand to soothe him a bit. He doesn’t really know why he’s so nervous, though, Harry looks incredibly fit in the sheer black shirt Louis forced him to buy, and no one’s going to pick on him because he’s with Louis. Louis won’t let them.

Even so, when they pull up in the car park by Liam’s house, Louis gives him the benefit of the doubt and rests his hand on Harry’s arm. “You ready, H?”

“Kinda, I guess.” He shrugs.

“You’ll be fine, I promise. If anyone tries to do anything dodge, tell me and I’ll sort ‘em right out, yeah?” Louis offers in return. Harry smiles, but Louis can tell it’s forced, and that makes him anxious.

“You coming boys?” Niall asks suddenly from outside the car. He’s got a hand on Amy’s waist and a glint in his eye; there’s no way he doesn’t at least fancy this girl.

Louis looks round at Harry, who’s still fumbling nervously with his fingers. “You good?” He asks. Harry looks up, and as soon as he meets Louis’ eyes he smiles wide, cheeks reddening a little bit, and he nods. Louis loves that he has that effect on the boy. “Come on then.”

They get out of the car, and the four of them walk down the street to Liam’s house, the thump of the bass audible from at least six houses away. Amy rings the doorbell, jumping up to give Liam a hug when he opens the door. Louis vaguely remembers them being a thing a while back, but that might just be his imagination.

“Hi guys, come in.” Liam says when Amy has let go of him, though if Louis’ being honest, it doesn’t sound completely genuine. Liam gives Niall a stern nod as he walks past, grabbing Amy’s hand and leading her towards the kitchen. The girl seems completely oblivious to the very obvious tension between the two, though Louis can’t for the life of him think why Niall and Liam would ever have tension. He didn’t even know they knew each other.

“How’s our Chemistry homework going, Harry?” Liam asks as he steps into the house, somewhat of a threatening look in his eye. Louis doesn’t like it.

Harry looks up at him with a nervous smile. “It’s nearly done. It’ll be done before New Year’s I reckon. I’ll email it to you when I’m finished.”

“Good.” He says with a stern nod. “We’re trying to play spin the bottle, but the girls won’t play unless there are more boys there. We’re down two, and there’s not really anyone else.”

“Can Niall and Amy come?” Harry asks.

Liam tenses up at the mention of his ex-girlfriend (Louis is _sure_ they were a thing at one point) with someone else, but agrees swiftly. “Go through to the back, door on the right of the loo. There’s drinks in there. I’ll go tell Niall and Amy.”

“Cheers Liam.” Louis says with a genuine smile, but Liam just narrows his eyes and lets them into the house. Charming, that is.

With a hand on Harry’s back, Louis leads them both to the extra room. He can feel Harry’s body thrumming with anticipation, or nerves, or something, and does his best to soothe him, running his thumb down Harry’s spine. Louis is pretty much ambushed by Zayn as soon as he enters the room, and Harry automatically averts his gaze, fumbling with his fingers, when Zayn slings an arm over Louis’ shoulders.

“Happy Christmas, mate!” Zayn exclaims, clearly already a little buzzed. Off what, Louis isn’t exactly sure. “Birthday, too. Birthday’s first, innit. Yeah, happy birthday, then happy Christmas.”

Louis chuckles and gives Harry a little nudge, encouraging him to go and talk to someone else before Zayn notices he’s here. That would be a little bit awkward to explain, Louis isn’t ready for that yet. “You’re mad.”

“You love it,” Zayn smirks, Louis definitely does love it.

Liam comes back then, Niall and Amy in tow, and instructs them all to sit in a circle and grab a shot glass. Zayn drags Louis to the corner he was sitting in, between a girl Louis recognises from Film Studies – he’s probably shagged her, to be honest – and Liam himself. Liam explains that they’re going to play a round of Never Have I Ever to get everyone a little more loose, which sounds easy enough, but when there are ten people playing, that means a possibility of taking ten shots, and Louis has done a lot of things. The girl sitting on Liam’s right starts, with _“Never have I ever shagged anyone in this room,”_ and the girl on Louis’ right drinks quickly, eyeing Louis, so he figures he probably needs to drink as well.

It carries on like that, Louis ending up drinking eight out of the possible ten times, only giving himself a breather on his own (“Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.” To Louis’ surprise, Harry drinks at that one) and Niall’s turns (“Never have I ever dated two people at the same time.”) which means by the end of the ‘warm up’, Louis is already starting to feel a little fuzzy around the edges. Zayn grabs an empty beer bottle and puts it in the middle of the circle, which makes the girls cheer loudly, apparently all as drunk as Louis is. He never realised how many people were complete sluts in his year, honestly.

“Alright guys, I don’t need to explain the rules like last time, do I?” Liam asks, pointedly looking at Harry, who just shakes his head quickly. He looks incredibly cute, Louis thinks.

The bottle spins, and Liam kisses the girl sitting next to Harry on the mouth, all tongues and spit and gross. Harry is definitely grossed out, which Louis finds hilarious. The girl spins and she lands on the girl sitting next to Amy. With a blush, she crawls across the circle and places a closed mouth kiss on her lips, before scuttling back from where she came. The game goes on and on, and Louis watches and drinks, but he isn’t all that interested, much more content with watching Harry from across the circle.

Everyone’s groaning suddenly, and Louis realises the bottle is pointing at Harry, the poor boy going red in the face with embarrassment. The brunette who must’ve spun the bottle cradles her head in her hands briefly, before walking on her knees across the circle. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

Harry is completely bewildered, eyes wide and slightly wet. He looks so out of place, absolutely no idea what to do with himself or any of his limbs. His hands are tightly clasped together on his lap, and as the girl leans forward to press their lips together, his knuckles go white. Louis feels so bad for him, absolutely helpless across the room, and not even able to do anything if he wanted to. He downs another shot.

“Well that was the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Zayn comments quietly when the two finally pull apart, and Louis lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in. He doesn’t know why, but the further away from Harry she gets, the more relieved Louis feels. It’s strange.

“Yeah, I know.” He mumbles in response. Harry reaches forward and spins the bottle, Louis’ eyes watching the way his back bends when he bends over, the way his long fingers pinch either side of the bottle to spin it. Louis may be salivating, he can’t quite tell.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I really hope he gets a dude,” Zayn whispers. “Don’t think I could go through the trauma of having to watch a fag kiss a girl again.”

Louis doesn’t comment, just downs another shot, closing his eyes tightly. When he opens them again, everyone is looking at him, and it’s only until he looks down at the bottle that he understands why. The entire room is silent, watching and waiting for Louis’ reaction, but he doesn’t care. He takes one look at the panicked look on Harry’s face and decides immediately what he’s going to say, a big smile on his face.

“What are you doing,” He says, tapping his lap lightly. “You can’t kiss me from all the way over there. Unless you’ve got super stretchy lips or something.”

Harry chuckles, all tension leaving his body as he crawls on all fours until he’s sitting directly in front of Louis, their knees touching. He’s smiling and blushing – and Louis probably is too – his hands resting comfortably in his lap this time, a huge difference from the last kiss he had. “You sure?”

“Course.” Louis replies immediately, tapping his lap again. “Get up here.”

Harry obliges, straddling Louis’ lap cautiously, their heads close together. Louis knows everyone’s probably staring, but he’s too buzzed to care even a tiny bit. All that matters is Harry, Harry’s smile, Harry’s happiness, Harry’s soft kissable lips. He pushes their heads closer together, the space between them becoming charged almost instantaneously.

“I’m scared.” Harry admits, his voice a low whisper.

Louis frowns, his hands resting just under the hem of Harry’s t-shirt, fingers stroking his soft skin in an attempt to comfort him. “What for?”

“Everyone’s watching us, Lou.”

“Don’t like PDA, huh?” Louis chuckles, brushing their noses together slightly. “That’s fine, H, just a quick peck then, yeah? Like the girls did. That way we’re not putting on a show for anyone.”

Harry nods quickly, a small smile on his lips, causing their teeth to bump together for a brief moment. Louis smiles at him and tilts his head up so it’ll be easier for Harry to slot their lips together. And then the younger boy leans down, and does just that. There’s electricity running all the way through Louis’ body, his fingers gripping slightly tighter at the skin on Harry’s waist, just to get a feel for him. It’s been far too long since he and Harry have kissed, Louis never realised how much he missed it.

“Harry,” Louis whispers into the space between them. His eyes are still closed, and his lips are tingling.

“Yeah?”

Harry’s right there, his lips grazing against Louis’ as their chests rise and fall, and Louis seriously wants to kiss him again, but he also wants to tell Harry how much he’s missed him. It’s probably not a good idea to do anything when his brain is addled this much, but Louis is sure with every cell in his body that he’s in love with Harry, and he intends on telling him right now.

Louis licks his lips, opening his eyes to look at Harry as he starts to say the one thing he’s probably wanted to say all along. “I lo–”

He doesn’t even get to finish the word before Harry’s kissing him again, desperate, wet, needy. It’s glorious and Louis melts into it, pushes into Harry’s hand on his cheek as their tongues work together, lazily but passionately. Every kiss with Harry seems better than the last, and Louis doesn’t really understand how it works, but he doesn’t really care either. He just wants to kiss Harry forever, and stroke his hands up his spine, and swallow his quiet moans and whimpers, and get Harry half hard in his jeans without even doing anything remotely sexual.

Louis’ doing all these things, until someone coughs loudly, and he jumps, detaching his lips from Harry’s in the process. Harry’s head is bowed, and he’s blushing and smiling uncontrollably as he crawls back to his spot next to Niall. Louis’ smiling far too wide as well, trying to hide it behind the rim of his glass and avoid everyone’s eye contact. His lips are tingling from where they were pressed on Harry’s, and even after he’s forced to press a short kiss on Amy’s lips, he can still taste the beautiful curly haired boy on his tongue, which is the best thing Louis could ask for.

***

Louis is very drunk, gloriously so. He hasn’t been this drunk since the Prom After Party back in July, but damn does it feel good. He’s dancing in the pit with a half empty bottle of beer in his hand and girls keep running their hands over his body, trying to get him to dance with them, but he’s not interested. Since the kiss, when Louis almost said _I love you_ to Harry, he hasn’t been able to get the boy off his mind. He just wants to tell him how he feels. But Zayn took him away immediately after the game ended, and Louis hasn’t seen Harry since.

The hands on his hips and the one running through his hair are starting to make Louis feel uncomfortable, so he dances his way over to where Liam is standing at the back of the room. Liam really doesn’t look all that pleased to see him, to be honest.

“Leemo!” Louis hollers, slinging an arm around Liam’s shoulder.

Liam shrugs it off quickly. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why don’t you like me, Leyum?” He pouts. Louis doesn’t even know why he cares so much, there’s always been a feud between the football team and the boxers – not that any of them really know why – and he’s not particularly fond of this guy either.

“Because you’re a twat.” Liam states coldly, which, okay. Louis was not expecting that.

“What? No I’m not!”

“Mate, you’re such a twat.” He says with a roll of his eyes. “You’re retaking the year because you suck so much at school. You think you’re better than everyone else because you’re the captain of the football team. You even got Tony kicked off the team because he called you a fag, which is rich considering you just shoved your tongue so far down a dude’s throat it basically came out his arse.”

Louis pouts again. “In my defence, Harry put his tongue in my mouth first. It would be rude to not recuperate.”

“Wow, you’re either really fucking drunk, or really fucking queer.” Liam snorts.

“Well actually I’m probably both, so jokes on you!” Louis shouts, poking his tongue out at Liam. Liam just shakes his head and walks away, leaving Louis standing in the corner of the room, watching everyone else have fun.

He scours the room, sees Zayn walking towards him, but out of the corner of his eye he can also see Harry sitting on the sofa next to Niall and Amy making out, and not looking best pleased about it. It takes less than a second for Louis to decide to ditch Zayn in favour of making Harry smile (and maybe snogging him a bit as well).

“Harreh!” He shouts as he approaches the three. Harry stands up and envelops him in a hug when he’s close enough, and Louis can smell the alcohol in his clothes, but he still smells overwhelmingly of Harry that Louis wants to kiss him again. No, right. More important things to do. “Guess what!”

Harry pulls away from the huge with a smile on his face. “What?”

“I love you!” He exclaims. “Isn’t that great!”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a while, just blinks at him.

“You… What?” He says dumbly, almost as if he can’t believe that Louis is in love with him. Quite ridiculous, Louis thinks, it’s not as if he hasn’t made it obvious.

“I’m in love with you, Harry.” Louis says, softer this time, a hand on Harry’s cheek. He’s smiling because Harry is so beautiful, and Louis wants to love him forever and make him smile and laugh and forget about all the bad things that have ever happened to him. Harry is the love of his life, Louis can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realise.

Harry kisses him square on the mouth. “I think,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to Louis’ mouth. “Holy shit,” Louis’ hands move to Harry’s waist, fingers squeezing the skin roughly. “I think we should,” They’re still kissing, Harry’s fingers winding in Louis’ hair. “Talk about this.”

“Talk later, kiss now.” Louis mumbles against Harry’s lips. They’re just too addicting for him to stop right now.

“Okay.” Harry whispers with a nod, pulling Louis closer to him, and then it’s like all inhibitions are thrown to the wind.

They’re kissing more desperately, Louis throwing every ounce of passion he has into the kiss, hopefully proving to Harry just how in love he is. Harry’s fingers are tugging Louis already messy hair, pulling them closer together, though Louis briefly wonders if that’s even possible. His body feels hot everywhere it’s pressed against Harry, and he walks them backwards two steps until Harry falls down against the sofa, Louis clambering on to his lap shortly after. Harry grabs Louis’ bum roughly, pulling him closer until he can feel Harry hard in his jeans (Louis briefly wonders if he’s been hard since they played spin the bottle three hours ago, or if it’s a recent development) making him moan quietly into the boy’s mouth.

Harry grins somewhat smugly and leans back all the way, so Louis has to bend his neck at an awkward angle to keep their mouths together. He’ll probably get neck ache if he stays like this for too long, but Louis couldn’t care less about that right now. All he cares about is Harry’s dick pressed against his as he pushes their hips together slowly, a harsh juxtaposition from the rapid pace of their kiss. Harry’s fingers seem to grip tighter at his bum, so Louis purposefully pushes back into his large hands, before ever so slowly rocking forwards, grinding their dicks together. Harry is the one to moan this time. It sounds loud to Louis, but it’s probably relatively quiet in retrospect. That doesn’t stop him breaking the kiss with a giggle and pressing a finger to Harry’s lips, however.

“Shh,” he says with a grin, Harry smiling back at him. “You’re too noisy, Styles.”

“Can’t help it when you do things like that.” Harry mumbles against Louis’ finger. “You’re just so hot, Lou.”

Louis watches as Harry opens his mouth and bites down gently on the pad of his finger, the visual of Harry’s mouth being filled up by _Louis_ making him groan behind clenched teeth. “Right,” he says when he notices Harry’s smirk behind his finger, and quickly removes the digit. “You’re going to pay for that.”

Harry grins smugly and links his hands together behind his head. “Doubt it.”

“Oh really?” Louis smirks, swivelling his hips hard right over the head of Harry’s dick. He can feel the way it moves beneath him, and very almost winces when Harry gasps out, seemingly in pain. Louis stops, concerned, but Harry just groans and grapples at Louis’ hips in order to keep the pressure up.

After one last sharp grind of their dicks, Louis rises slightly on his knees so they aren’t even touching, and runs his lips down Harry’s neck. Louis is the king of the teases, and he knows it too. He intends on using his skills to get Harry so riled up he can’t see straight, and it seems to already be working, what with the way Harry whines when he pulls his hips away. Louis’ fingers dance over Harry’s pecs as he bares his teeth and scrapes them over Harry’s jaw line, the younger boy writhing beneath him as he does so. As he makes his way down, Louis presses some wet kisses to Harry’s neck and bites gently on his jugular, just to see the red mark it would leave for tomorrow.

Louis undoes the first two buttons of Harry’s shirt, pushing the collar out the way a bit as he latches on to the dip below boy’s collarbone, sucking harshly. Harry’s surprised, Louis can tell by the short gasp he lets out, and the way all his fingers immediately root themselves deeply in Louis’ hair. He pulls hard when Louis bites down, and even harder when he pulls back to blow cool air on his wet neck, his eyes shut tightly, lip between his teeth to stop himself from moaning. He looks absolutely beautiful, Louis decides.

“Lou, I get the point, please stop.” He grits out, tugging Louis’ hair to get him off. “Please, I want to kiss you again.”

Really, there’s no way Louis could deny this boy a kiss, not with how beautifully puffy and red his lips are. He goes easily after that, re-connecting their lips with a grunt, kneeling up fully so he can use the height to his advantage and squash Harry to the back of the sofa. It doesn’t take long for Louis to start grinding on Harry’s stomach, the noises Harry had been making had made him completely hard, and he really just needs some relief right now. Harry probably does too, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get it, no matter how hard he tugs at Louis’ waist. He chuckles at Harry’s futile attempt and rubs even faster, his dick feeling far too confined in his boxers. If they weren’t in the middle of a party, Louis probably would’ve already stripped down naked.

“Louis,” Harry groans into Louis’ mouth. “C’mon.”

Louis laughs and pulls back a little bit, his nose still bumping against Harry’s cheek. “Say please.”

“I’m so hard, Lou, please.” He says in response, eyes visibly black with lust, even under the dim lighting in the room.

Louis smiles and sits back down on Harry’s lap, grinding their dicks together at a ferocious pace. Harry moans loudly (this time it is pretty loud) so Louis closes the minuscule gap between them, swallowing the pretty noise in the process. With the teasing riling both Harry and Louis up a considerable amount, it doesn’t take much of bumping their dicks together before Louis is on the edge of an orgasm, and Harry is pretty close as well by the sounds of things. It’s that moment which Harry chooses to forcibly still Louis’ hips and pull away from the kiss, a conflicted frown on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Louis asks worriedly, immediately assuming he’s done something wrong.

“I’m about to come.” He replies, still frowning. Louis is also pretty confused at this point. Isn’t coming the point of this?

“So?”

“So look around you,” Harry mumbles quietly, and Louis does, realising the problem. They’re in a pretty crowded place, a few people shamelessly watching them get each other off on the sofa. He can understand why that would make Harry feel uncomfortable. “I want to do this is private, where only I get to see you.”

Louis nods, totally understanding. He doesn’t want all these people to know what he looks like when he comes, even though most of them probably already do. “Wanna find a room and continue this?”

“Yes please.”

Harry’s blushing, so Louis smiles and presses a short kiss on his lips, before getting off his lap and holding out both his hands. He pulls Harry up off the sofa, linking their fingers together, and dragging him towards the hallway to find an empty room. They pass Zayn on the way, who’s giving them the strangest look, and Louis knows he’s going to have some explaining to do tomorrow, but right now he doesn’t care because he’s drunk and hard and completely and utterly in love with the boy trailing behind him.

***

The next morning, Harry wakes with a start to the sound of clattering pans in the distance. It makes his head pound and his eyes hurt from the bright sunlight pouring through the window, but that’s still not the most worrying thing that morning. The most worrying thing is that Harry is not in his bed, but more importantly, who’s ever bed this is, Louis Tomlinson is in it with him. Harry doesn’t really remember what happened last night, just a lot of kissing and arousal and drinking. Oh shit.

Louis’ rubbing his eyes tiredly, seemingly just waking from his slumber as well, and Harry freezes in place. He’s not entirely sure what Louis is going to say or do – every other time they’ve kissed he’s run away pretty soon after – and he doesn’t want to startle him or ruin the moment before it’s over. It’s probably selfish of him, but Harry doesn’t care. When Louis spots him, he does something that Harry is definitely not expecting. He smiles.

“Hi.” He says.

Harry clears his throat, before speaking cautiously. “Hi.”

There’s some more clattering and swearing, and it causes Harry to jump. Louis chuckles quietly and runs a soothing hand up Harry’s naked arm. Wait a second, Harry isn’t wearing any clothes (not even pants now he thinks about it) and by the looks of things neither is Louis.

“Oh my god– we– did we–” he gasps suddenly. How can he not remember if he and Louis did it last night? Surely he wasn’t _that_ drunk. But the fact that he can’t remember either way panics him quite a bit.

“Harry, Haz, calm down, it’s okay,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s upper arm gently. “We didn’t screw. You said you wanted to remember your first time, and to be honest so do I.”

Harry smiles and gasps dramatically. “Wait, you’re a virgin?”

“You know what I mean, Styles.” He responds, rolling his eyes and pushing on Harry’s shoulder. “My first time with a _guy_.”

Harry hums, going easily when Louis pulls him into his arms for a cuddle. Harry loves a good cuddle, and Louis seems to be the best cuddler around. The rise and fall of Louis’ chest seems to cause Harry to doze off again, images of the previous night flittering behind his closed kids. He remembers playing spin the bottle, remembers snogging Louis in front of the most popular people in school and Niall (sorry Niall). Harry remembers Niall dragging him away to the kitchen as soon as the game had finished, and he remembers seeing Louis across the living room at least three hours later. There was more kissing after that, grinding on the sofa, and then they moved to the bedroom to do it– but they didn’t. That last part is still a little hazy in Harry’s memory. He doesn’t even remember taking his clothes off.

“Lou?” He mumbles after a while. Louis hums deep in his throat and it rumbles against Harry’s ear, where it’s pressed to Louis’ sternum. “What did we do last night, if we didn’t have sex? Like, why are we both naked if nothing happened?”

“Oh cheers, nice to know it was such a memorable experience for you.” Louis replies with a half-playful snort.

Harry just rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to distinguish between dream and reality here, mate, don’t make fun.”

“Dreaming about me, were you?”

The thing is, Harry isn’t sure. He very vaguely remembers getting naked with Louis, and there was definitely touching and coming involved, but he’s not sure if that was a dream or it actually happened. Especially seeing as Louis said they didn’t have sex. Harry just doesn’t want to say something stupid and mess this all up. So far Louis hasn’t run off, but who knows, sex could be the thing that scares him off again, whether it happened or not. Harry can’t take that risk.

“Louis.” He huffs.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, arm tightening slightly around Harry’s middle. “Well, first we dry humped in the living room, which gave some people a good show, then we moved back here because we wanted more privacy.”

“What did we do in here?” Harry prompts, his heart quickening slightly.

“Just some handies.” Louis says with a shrug. “I mean I personally thought I was quite good at it, but if you _don’t remember_ then it must’ve been mediocre at best.”

Harry rolls his eyes and elbows Louis gently in the side. “Shut up, of course I remember.”

“Then why on Earth did you ask?”

“Because you said we never had sex last night.”

Harry can feel Louis’ frown on the top of his head. “Hand stuff doesn’t count.”

“Uhm yes it does.” Harry laughs, slightly bewildered. Hand stuff is at least 30% of sex with a man. The way Harry (and pretty much every other gay man ever) sees it, there are three levels of sex; hand stuff, mouth stuff, and anal. He’s watched enough porn to know what is sex and what isn’t, and what he and Louis did last night was definitely sex.

“No I’m pretty sure it doesn’t. No one’s dick went inside anyone, therefore not sex.” He argues. Harry raises his head and rests it on his hand so he can have a look at Louis’ face and work out how serious he is. The answer is deadly serious.

“Your dick went inside my hand.” He counters lightly, hoping to make Louis crack a smile at least. He merely frowns deeper.

“You know what I mean.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re not homo like me. Penetrative sex is not the only type of sex, Lou,” Harry says, chuckling quietly when Louis makes a noise of disagreement. “Think what you want, but I’m gonna tell everyone we had sex last night no matter what.”

Louis’ eyes widen suddenly and he sits up a little bit. “No, you can’t tell anyone!”

“What, why?” He asks, a sinking feeling in his gut. Louis must read it on his face, because he sighs, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on Harry’s nose. Well, that’s new.

“I’m sorry. I’m not ashamed of you or anything,” he says with what Harry hopes is sincerity. Louis’ hand is clutching Harry’s tightly and he’s running his fingers across the knuckles in a way Harry has never experienced before. He likes it a lot. “I just. Like you said, I’m not homo like you, or at least to everyone else I’m not. I want to tell them myself, in my own time. Is that okay?”

Harry nods wildly, his hair flopping down on his face, cheeks heating up at the feeling of Louis’ hand in his. “Course it is.” He says.

“Great.” Louis grins, leaning forward and kissing Harry on the mouth. Harry’s shocked at first, but he melts into the kiss easily, his free hand gripping Louis’ elbow tightly to keep him in place. They pull apart slightly, Louis’ breath fanning across Harry’s lips as he speaks. “Thanks for being so understanding, my love.”

Harry jerks away suddenly, trying to pull back enough so he can see Louis’ face and hopefully read his expression. Louis’ small, contempt smile immediately drops, a frown appearing in it’s place, matching the one on Harry’s own face. Harry remembers Louis saying the _L_ word last night, but he just figured he was too drunk to mean anything by it. He wasn’t going to ask, but the situation seems to have presented itself so nicely for him, how can he not ask.

“Yeah, about the love thing,” he mumbles, worrying his lip. Louis’ hand goes slack in his, and he can already feel him working out the best route of escape. Probably not the best way to start. “You said we’d talk about it later, and well, it’s later.”

Louis breathes out harshly and nods. “Okay, well. You start.”

“Did you mean it?” He asks quietly. Louis’ head snaps up quickly, wide blue eyes meeting Harry’s in a rush of panic. He gulps audibly, but doesn’t say anything for the longest time, in favour of maintaining their eye contact.

Finally, he bows his head and whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Harry replies, frowning slightly.

“I feel _something_ for you, H, I know that for sure.” He amends quickly. His hand squeezes Harry’s again, probably intended to comfort him, which it does. “In the back of my mind, I always knew I was attracted to you, and then we started hanging out, and I completely fell for your personality. Is it love? Who knows. But there’s _something_ , and I know that if I didn’t do anything about it this time I’d definitely regret it.”

Harry’s heart quickens, but he knows from experience to not assume what people are saying; he’s often wrong. He narrows his eyes at Louis. “What are you saying?”

“I’m _saying_ , that I want to give this– us a go.” He replies hurriedly. Louis’ words are getting jumbled together, his breathing quickens slightly, and his cheeks are bright red. If Harry wasn’t having a very similar reaction to the boy’s confession, he’d probably tease him about it. “D’you– I mean, do you wanna?”

It’s so abrupt and casual, that Harry can’t help the bubble of laughter that rises in his chest. “Sorry, sorry,” He says quickly, brushing his thumb over the dip in Louis’ elbow when he notices the way Louis tenses at his outburst. “It’s just– _do you wanna_? A bit casual, innit?”

“Fine, how about this,” he huffs, taking a deep breath and looking at Harry in the eyes. A small smile graces his lips as he takes both Harry’s hands in his. “Harry – middle name – Styles, will you be my boyfriend?”

Harry mocks a thinking face to make Louis laugh, and the boy’s smile does widen, so he’d call it a success. He’s actually thinking, though, is the thing. There’s nothing Harry wants more right now than to go out with Louis Tomlinson, his crush for at least three years, but he’s not sure if it’s practically a good idea. Harry wants there to be honesty and trust in any relationship he enters, but he feels like that can’t happen if Louis doesn’t know about his past. Not all the gory details, just an outline. He doesn’t want Louis to bail out when he discovers it’s not going to be all rainbows and candy floss, Harry doesn’t think his heart can take that sort of rejection. No, he’d rather Louis bailed out of their friendship than a relationship. That’s why he has to say no.

“Louis. You’ve got to understand that there’s nothing I want more than to be your boyfriend.” Harry says slowly, worrying his lip.

Louis sighs, his head hanging, and nods. “I know there’s a _but_ , Harry, so just spit it out.”

“But…” Harry sighs when Louis’ hands fall slack in his, and clings on tighter. “There’s some things in my past I need to tell you about. I don’t want you going into this thinking everything is going to be easy, and even though I want to be with you, that doesn’t mean you’ll want to be with me once I tell you.”

“I doubt it.” Louis says lightly, still staring at the bed. When Harry doesn’t say reply in any way, he looks up and sighs, seeming frustrated. “C’mon then. Get it over with.”

“It’s not– I can’t– Louis.” He hisses. He’s not ready to tell him, not when they’re both hung over and naked and in _Liam Payne_ ’s house. It needs to be on his terms, just like Louis needs his own time to tell people about the two of them. “Not right now. In my own time, Lou, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis says immediately, pressing another kiss to Harry’s lips. He looks like he understands, but Harry thinks he probably doesn’t, hasn’t got a clue what he’s about to let himself in for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again
> 
> Leave kudos//comment//accept my apology//stay beautiful xox


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